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Chapter Text

Hello fellow seekers of fine literature and welcome to my first ever fanfic which happens to be about a certain unhinged (and handsome) teyvatian scientist. Before we see what our favourite Fatui doctor has prepared for us, let me tell you some additional info that might prove useful.

1. As you probably noticed, MC has been given a name. This fic is labeled as Il Dottore/Reader but also as Il Dottore/Original Female Character so the decision how you want to see the protagonist is yours. I didn't include any descriptions of MC's appearance besides stating that she is shorter than Dottore so you can depict her as you like. The name Bianka is also not random; you can check the meaning of this name and keep the secret for eternity.

2. Some characters, mainly The Harbingers, may appear as OOC (mostly because almost every one of them appeared only once in-game and we still don't know much about them). Dottore's character is also a bit divergent and it looks like a mix of Webby's and Omega's personalities (which is also not accidental).

3. The action takes place between first Inazuman AQ and fifth Sumerian AQ, so expect spoilers from this timeline. Although some info would differ from canon as was stated in the tags.

4. The work will be divided into four acts which put together will consist of about 50 chapters, each between 4000-7000 words (yeah, watch me stick to this rule in further chapters XDD), so be prepared for a long ride. Don't be scared though as I will definitely complete this work. If I stop posting new chapters, it means I have been struck with a meteorite and am unable to post from the other side.

5. I plan to post one chapter every two weeks on Fridays (now changed to every three weeks). This may be a subject to change as I'm currently studying and may be overworked if my tutors decide to attack me and my peers with three tests a week (in addition, english is not my first language, so it takes even more time to translate every single chapter).

6. As you could see this work has been rated M, for it will contain scenes that some may find disturbing. Twigger warnings will be depicted at the beginning of every chapter and will be labeled as

That would be all! If you have any other questions, feel free to write a comment. And now, without further ado, let's jump into the story!

Chapter Text

For all those who are not afraid to love

Ravens are creatures most intelligent and perfidious. Having turned their backs on their gentle, herbivorous kin, they targeted poor, fenceless animalcules, plummeting at them from the firmament and blowing out the fragile flame of their lives with their powerful beaks. Devouring even decaying carrion, they have gained a bad reputation as a companion of Death itself and are seen by other birds as a bad omen. However, few beings know that these seemingly filthy creatures are faithful and capable of love, for once they find and bond with their partner, they will not leave them until the end of time itself…

ACT I

THE BEAST’S LAIR

The laboratory was unusually peaceful. All the scientists with access to this godforsaken place had already gone to their rooms, leaving only the tall man bent over a sheet of paper. In addition to the scraping of a pen and unintelligible mumbling, the silence was disturbed by a strange, unidentified bubbling coming from the many test tubes lined up in a row, and the buzzing of fluorescent lamps emanating an unsettling blue light. In cages behind the corner, a dozen or so white mice were trying to get a moment's rest before another of their fellows was taken away to die an agonizing death during inhumane experiments.

Unfortunately, they were not given a long sleep. At the sound of furious screaming and fists pounding on the desk, the rodents rose with a terrified squeal. The man stood up from the table and angrily threw all the documents to the floor. He grabbed his head, walked the length of the room several times, still mumbling, and then stood in front of the cages.

“Impossible!” he choked out through clenched teeth. “This time I took into account all the variables. Impossible that the data still didn't match!”

He slapped the side of the cage, further scaring the terrified mice. One braver than the others stared at him with its beady red eyes. The man answered with a hateful, equally ruby gaze. His unblinking eyes and face twisted with anger gave him the appearance of an untamed, crazed beast.

“You will be next," he said ominously, then returned to the scattered papers. He picked them up from the ground, flicked each sheet and sat back down at his desk. He began to analyze a succession of numbers, charts and data, rubbing his eyes from time to time, bloodshot from fatigue.

At one point, he paused longer over one page and stared at a string of numbers. He grabbed a pen and corrected the notation, shaking his head in disbelief.

“How could I’ve made such a mistake?” he asked himself. “With such trivial calculations... At least I know that everything is correct.”

He was already about to get down to work when a dull thud sounded in the room. Exasperated, he turned towards the door. Who could show up here at such a late hour? He quickly grabbed the mask that was lying on the coffee table and put it on before anyone managed to see his face.

“Enter!” he ordered briefly.

A stranger dressed in a messenger's outfit stood in the doorway. He was still very young, twenty at most, and terribly frightened - he didn’t fail to notice how much his legs were shaking. He wondered briefly how long the intruder had stood at the door, afraid to knock.

Avoiding eye contact, the boy got down on one knee and bowed to the older man.

“Lord Dottore, Her Majesty is calling.”

The Doctor's eyebrows rose in bafflement. The mere appearance of a messenger at this  hour was unusual, and now he was being summoned by the Cryo Archon herself? He could feel the hair on his neck stand on end. He had a bad feeling about this. He couldn't fail to show up to the summoning, but he could lash out at another living being. And he wasn’t thinking about the mice.

He slowly got up from his desk and approached the boy, who was still kneeling on the floor. From this position the man towered over him considerably. It didn't matter much in any case - even if the youngster stood on his toes and stretched out as far as he could, Lord Dottore would still be taller by several centimeters. Sensing one of the Fatui's greatest terrors above him, the messenger hunched over even more, his head almost touching the floor. Suddenly he felt something clamp down on his jaw, practically crushing the bone; surprised, he groaned quietly. That something began to pull him upwards until he was forced to look straight into the fear-inducing mask. It had a distinctive pattern, which resembled a maw of a smiling monster. The grotesque decoration was giving an impression that the demon was mocking any poor person who had the misfortune to come across the mad scientist.

“Hasn’t your pathetic mother taught you that it’s impolite to avert your eyes from your interlocutor?” Dottore grinded through his teeth. The boy's eyes got as big as saucers. He tried to get a few words out, but all that came out of his mouth was a sob. The man pursed his lips and stroked the delinquent’s cheek with his other hand. Instead of calming down, the boy felt even bigger fear. He knew well that there was not a trace of sincerity in these gestures but only mockery.

“Oh, what happened?” He asked with feigned concern. “Are you afraid of doctors? Quite needlessly; we exist only to help.”

The young man tried to tear himself from the grasp, but the Doctor's grip was strong, merciless even. He could only listen to his next words and pray to the gods that he escapes from this encounter alive. However, his chances for a happy return dropped even further when a syringe filled with angry red liquid suddenly appeared in the scientist's hand.

“You don't look very good," he continued. “I believe you could use some extra vitamins, don't you think?”

The messenger sobbed when he felt the cold touch of the needle on his cheek. While the boy struggled to not loose consciousness, the medic was having a great time. With all his willpower he bit back laughter, seeing how close the youngster was to peeing himself from fear. In the end, he decided that that’s enough clowning for one day.

“No,” he growled, moving the needle away from the messenger, who was looking at him with wide-opened eyes. “I will not waste my precious potions on a second-rater like you.” He let go of the boy, who sank to his knees, completely exhausted. “Get out of here before I change my mind. Now!”

The young man did not need to be told twice. He quickly got to his feet and ran so fast that his silhouette blurred in one’s eyes. The man watched him for a moment longer, then snorted, went back inside to get his thick coat and stormed out of the laboratory. He made his way through the long, cold corridors with quick steps and his coat billowing behind him like a cape. All the people he encountered stepped out of his way without hesitation. At any other time, such behavior would have titillated him nicely, but now he was too preoccupied with the call to pay them any attention.

Finally, he stood in front of the large double doors. They were made of the highest quality marble, decorated with elaborate designs. Every resident of the palace knew that the ornaments were created from stone-hard ice. The man breathed deeply to calm his thoughts, opened the door and stepped inside with confidence.

He found himself in a huge, almost empty hall. The ceiling was so high that it was lost in the darkness. His footsteps echoed resoundingly as he made his way towards the room's only feature - a throne created from blue ice, located on an elevated platform. On it sat the most dangerous being in Snezhnaya, and perhaps in all of Teyvat.

This time it was his turn to bow before his queen. At first the woman did not pay him any attention. She stared into the distance with a misty gaze, clearly lost in thought. The man knew, however, that she was fully aware of his presence. He decided to remain silent.

After a few seconds, which seemed to last an eternity, a strong, resonant voice reverberated in the room:

“Il Dottore!”

“You called for me, Your Majesty.”

The woman finally looked at the kneeling man. Her eyes, reminiscent of an overcast sky, pierced him to the core.

“Tell me, what stage is your research at?”

Ah, as usual the Tsaritsa wasn’t beating around the bush, but went straight to the point. The question sent unpleasant shivers down the man's spine, for he did not have good news. Lately, his research seemed not to move forward even by a millimeter, mainly due to the exhaustion that had finally grasped him in its claws. The medic was notoriously frazzled, both from stress and lack of sleep. His eyes were starting to get cloudy after just two hours of work, and his once steady hands were shaking involuntarily, often threatening to spill dangerous reagents from beakers. One night after an exceptionally hard day, he even fell asleep at his desk while reviewing the data he had collected. The self-invented specifics he had been taking to regain energy also began to lose their effect.

“They are getting closer to realization every day," he finally said, bowing his head.

The Tsaritsa did not respond. Instead, a sigh full of disappointment escaped her lips.

“Dottore, ”she called out to him softly. “My Second. Look at me.”

The man obediently raised his gaze to her.

“You are one of the most powerful people in the world, one of the Eleven Harbingers," she continued, "and your genius is second to none. I know that an enormous responsibility rests on your and your companions’ shoulders, however, we cannot afford any obstacles or delays, not now, when the ultimate goal is within our grasp. All plans must proceed without any disruptions. You understand what I mean.”

It wasn't a question and the medic knew it well. Without blinking an eye, he continued to listen to the queen's words.

“Without any disruptions," she repeated, "and that's why you must find a way to remove this problem. I have not the slightest doubt that you will manage. I fully trust your skills and sharpness of mind.” The man thought that a delicate smile formed on her face. Then again, he was too far away to be sure. “Now go, Dottore, and bring us glory.”

“As you wish, my queen.”

With his head still bowed, he retreated to the door and left the chamber. Finally, he let out the air he had been holding back. He felt his anxiety turn into unbridled rage. He drew back towards his laboratory, mumbling to himself and waving his arm wildly from time to time.

"’No disruptions.’ Ha! Somehow I've never seen her deign to move her noble rump from her den, but we are supposed to bend over backwards and do everything we can to make her content. Insolence!”

The man knew that he would smash the entire building into dust unless he immediately found himself in his workroom. He had to plunge into one of his projects at the earliest opportunity to preserve the remnants of his sanity (if indeed he still had any left). He groaned angrily, thinking that nothing could spoil this day even more.

“Oh my, I suppose the meeting with Her Majesty didn’t go as you planned, or am I wrong?”

And yet someone could...

For a split second, Dottore considered whether to simply pretend he hadn't heard anything and continue on his way. However, he quickly abandoned that idea - he knew that if he managed to get his attention, no amount of force could stop him from making his life miserable. He slowly turned towards the silhouette standing in the adjacent hallway and measured them with a gaze full of revulsion. Raven-black hair, elegant silver glasses, a stylish expensive cashmere coat, for which one could feed an entire platoon, and that gentle, innocent smile.

Many people tried to figure out what kind of relationship links the fearsome Doctor and the richest man in Teyvat. Most thought it was purely transactional, others were convinced that they were connected by a thread of difficult but sincere friendship. The boldest claimed that a forbidden love had blossomed between them, which they were scrupulously hiding from the rest of the world. Dottore did not know himself. What he did know, however, was that at the sight of known to all businessmen and the most eligible bachelor in the world, Pantalone, he felt a sudden urge to commit an extremely bloody and cruel murder, and then to dismember the body of the unfortunate man and throw it to starved piranhas.

“Don't you think it's a little too late to stroll around the palace, Regrator?” The Doctor's voice was downright dripping with venom. An ordinary person would have found this tone petrifying, but Pantalone remained unmoved.

“In that case, what are you doing here at such an inhuman hour?” he asked kindly. Dottore snorted.

“Have you fallen on your head? You yourself mentioned an audience with the queen just now. I was just returning to my room when you appeared and ruined everything.”

“Rather, to the laboratory," Pantalone corrected him. “I dare say that your room is closer to a morgue than a place of residence. After all, you are so rarely there. And as for that hearing...” Pantalone took a few steps closer to him. “What could be so important that you had to talk about it in the middle of the night?”

After these words, the man opened his eyes and measured the Doctor with a piercing gaze. Dottore would never admit it, but that glare caused anxiety even in him. Regrator’s eyes seemed to bore into him with such intensity that even ten masks with the image of the monster would not be enough to cut them off. The man knew very well that in a duel of gazes he had no chance against him. He heaved a sigh.

“Truly, Pantalone, your greed knows no bounds.” Pantalone’s smile only grew wider in response. He already knew that he had won. “Lady Tsaritsa wanted to know what stage my research is at.”

“Oho? Interesting. And what did you tell Her Majesty?” The man moved even closer.

“That the work is going smoother than usual and I am close to making a breakthrough.”

At that moment Dottore felt a stabbing pain on the tip of his nose. He looked at the other man in disbelief. Did the Banker really give him a poke on a nose?

“And what was that supposed to be?” Dottore asked indignantly.

“A lie," Pantalone replied, "and not a very sophisticated one. And now I'll ask again: what did you tell Her Majesty?”

The medic swore that, if it were not for Pantalone's immense wealth, which he was willing to share, the head of his "comrade" would have long since hung over the fireplace in his room. Even if he wasn't quite sure when he had last been there. That's okay, it was certainly so cold already that the head would have been preserved just fine.

Unfortunately, he couldn't give the Banker the decapitation treatment without bringing on himself the wrath of the Cryo Archon. Therefore, Dottore measured him with a truly deadly scowl and looked away.

“It's really not a big deal. It's just that lately work has slowed down a bit, as I've decided to set aside more time for relaxation. Of course, I'm referring to my own projects.”

Pantalone stared at him, a flash of irritation in his eyes.

“You talk about rest, yet when you walked down the corridor you were swaying from exhaustion. If this is relaxation for you, then I don't want to know what "hard work" means in your dictionary.”

The man chose to ignore the nudge. Pantalone's smile took on a mischievous expression.

“Let me help you a little.” The banker cleared his throat, straightened up and began: "’My research has slowed down recently, because I refused to listen to the advice of a smarter-than-me colleague (again) and instead of going to sleep, which would be more beneficial, I worked twenty-four hours a day, and used the mold that grew on the walls of my laboratory as my only food. All of this is a consequence of me being an arrogant, stubborn mule and sill having no desire to hire an assistant.’"

“Shh! Not so loud!” Dottore looked around to make sure no one had heard Pantalone's humiliating speech. Angry to the extreme, he looked at Regrator, whose face bore a gentle smile again.

“Did I make a mistake?”

“How many times do I have to tell you. I don't need an assistant; I have my segments.”

“In that case, your segments are either inefficient or just plain lazy, since I don't see any improvement in your condition. Furthermore, I think you could use some fresh blood in your lab.”

“Oh, you don't have to bother about that, I have fresh blood all the time. If you want I can give you a vial.”

“You know very well that this is not the kind of blood I had in mind.”

“Assistants are untrustworthy," Dottore insisted.” The last assistant serving one of my segments ended up as a pile of scrap somewhere in the forests of Mondstadt.”

“That was because this man was assigned to him from above," Pantalone did not give up. “If you went to one of the research centers and selected a competent person yourself, you certainly wouldn't be disappointed.”

“I don't have time for that.”

And so the conversation dragged on, with neither side willing to admit that the other was right. Dottore swore that he was doing great on his own; Pantalone claimed that sooner Snezhnaya would be covered in fire than he would prove to him that he should not be incapacitated. Dottore threatened to gut the banker, if the latter didn't leave him alone; Pantalone announced that, in that case, the Doctor needed no further funding. Dottore remarked that he didn't have the means to make such a trip; Pantalone assured him that that wasn’t a slightest problem and would give him for a cab ride, smiling wryly. Dottore spat that he could get stuffed with his cab; Pantalone announced calmly that the medic could get stuffed with his requests for a raise, which were taking up a considerable amount of space on his desk. Finally, Dottore proclaimed that he hated him, a self-righteous, greedy buzzard, with all his heart; Pantalone didn't care at all, stating that the only heart the Doctor has floats in one of the jars filled with formalin in his laboratory.

“Think about it some more," Pantalone said on his way out. “Tomorrow Signora leaves for Inazuma; everyone's attention will be focused on this event. No one will notice the lone carriage heading inland. In my opinion, it's an ideal opportunity to get some things done unnoticed, don't you think?”

That said, Pantalone walked away towards his chambers. Dottore spluttered in disgust and headed for the laboratory himself.

Yes, the Second Harbinger hated every inch of the cunning banker's skin. And that's why he couldn't understand why, instead of returning to the lab, he went to his own room (which absolutely did not resemble the long-forgotten catacombs), took a warm bath and slept for a few hours. Moreover, he could not comprehend at all why in the morning he ordered a hearty breakfast and ate it to the last bite. And he couldn't explain altogether why an hour later he was already sitting in a carriage heading towards the Central Research Institute, located fifty kilometers outside of the city, having previously sent a messenger to the director of the center with information about a somewhat unusual visitor.

Dottore felt uncomfortable for a while, trying not to notice that he had finally let Regrator's words enter his mind. However, he quickly calmed down, concluding that the flea-ridden magpie had surely added something to his food. It was certainly all a set-up, and he had apparently lost the knack, having spent many hours in the lab with white mice as his only companions.

The Doctor didn't bother any longer. He stretched out comfortably in his seat and gazed at the landscape shrouded in white powder. Snowflakes swirled in the gentle breeze, covering the wheel tracks as soon as they appeared. He couldn't have known that in one of the palace's many windows a lone figure was watching his departure. A wide, self-satisfied smile bloomed on their face.

****

There was an unnatural silence in the laboratory. It was not disturbed by the scratch of a pen on paper or by nervous mumbling. One of the white mice, the one that took part in a staring contest with one of the most dangerous creatures in the world, rose and approached the grate. It looked towards the desk, then glanced at the operating table, and finally sized the adult-sized tanks up. Nowhere did it see the deranged creature with blue fur and crazed eyes. It rejoined it’s brothers and huddled between two warm bodies. The mouse knew it could sleep soundly tonight.

Chapter Text

The woman sighed and looked forlornly at her flat. Her possessions were not great, and yet, after packing it up, the room suddenly became very... empty. She looked at the clock hanging on the wall, which showed 7:42 a.m. She liked this clock, the sound of its hands measuring the seconds of her life always calmed her. But now she had to leave it here, as well as all the other furniture that had served her so well for so many years. She lowered her head in thought. Uncanny that the day which was the beginning of the end of her simple life had begun so innocently...

****

One.

Two.

Three.

Bianka carefully stirred the newly developed solution. There was no indication of any reaction - both colour and smell of the liquid remained the same. However, the woman was not easily fooled. She knew that the test tube she was holding contained a deadly poison now. She put the vessel back in the stand, closed it with a cork and marked. The researcher let out the breath she was holding. She couldn't deny that her work was enjoyable, but sometimes she felt uneasy at the thought of what a powerful tool was in her hands. A tool that consisted of toxins so potent that just one drop would be enough to kill ten grown men. She also possessed in her arsenal those without any taste or smell, which killed slowly, leading to a failure of major organs. One of these poisons she had just finished creating.

In the background, she could hear Wilhelm and Tatiana whispering with each other and giggling under their breath from time to time. Bianka smiled. These two had always preferred to gossip and faff around rather than do the assigned work. She didn't hold a grudge against them. Thanks to their nature, their room was known for its cordial atmosphere. Many times employees from other laboratories came to ask for help; they have never been refused. At the same time, their room was breaking records in the number of reprimands earned. Wilhelm and Tatiana bore all the responsibility for this - sometimes their roars of laughter were so loud that the window panes shook.

“Quiet, you rascals! Can't you see that I'm working?!”

The two friends looked with mild irritation at the third woman. Kiang, a fanatic of all rules and regulations, always tried to keep the unruly two in line. She was also the only person in the room who insisted on wearing a mask to cover her eyes all day (the rules stated that they could remove them only in their flats or when they were alone). However, only those who have seen her on the dance floor knew her true nature. She could prance and twirl for several hours without breaking a sweat, and then, with a deadly serious look on her face, drink such amounts of Fire-Water that even a horse wouldn't come out unscathed.

“Take it easy, Kiang. You do nothing but work all the time," Tatiana pointed out to her.

“Exactly. I don't think Kiang even knows such a term as ‘skipping classes’," added Wilhelm.

Bianka could have sworn that she saw the desire for murder in Kiang's eyes, which even the mask could not cover. However, before the woman could curse her fellow employees,  a muffled laughter spread through the room.

“Better watch out. I heard that Kiang knows kung fu, so I advise you not to annoy her.”

Bianka glanced at the man with a dusky complexion and wise eyes. He reciprocated her gaze and winked at her impishly. Eymen was her favourite co-worker and also her twin flame. It is said that as a young boy he moved with his family from hot and lush Sumeru to frigid, ruthless Snezhnaya. Bianka admired him for his pieces of advice and incisive observations. At the same time, Eymen was not without a sense of humour; some of his jokes could easily bring her to tears.

And what was she like herself? Her friends said that the first trait that struck the eye was her curiosity. Bianka could not deny that. Whenever something interested her and raised questions she didn't know the answer to, she couldn't rest until her curiosity was satisfied. Even when things got dangerous and others told her to slow down, she stubbornly pushed forward. Eymen told her once that, if she wanted to, she could be very brave. Bianka did not feel brave. She was sensitive, loved nature, and, despite enjoying spending time with her friends, felt the most comfortable in her own room with a cup of tea in one hand and a good book in the other.

“Mora for your thoughts?”

Bianka turned towards Eymen, who was leaning against her table. She glanced at the clock hanging on the wall, noting that there were only two minutes left until the bell announcing  end of the day. Wilhelm and Tatiana no longer tried to pretend to work. Even Kiang had already taken off her lab coat and was packing up her belongings.

“Oh, did you manage to complete your magic potion?” Eymen asked curiously when he saw a vial full of colourless liquid. Without waiting for an answer, he took the test tube and pretended to drink its contents. Bianka's eyes got as big as saucers.

“Hey, what are you doing?!” she exclaimed, snatching the flask from Eymen, who started giggling at his own joke. “Did you fall on your head? That could have been dangerous!”

Only more laughter answered her.

Suddenly, the sound of an alarm resounded across the room. Wilhelm and Tatiana were the first to pack up, then ran out of the room, cackling loudly. Kiang eyed them with a grim look before following. Bianka knew that the woman actually liked her irrepressible acquaintances, but she had no intention of admitting it. Eymen was waiting for Bianka next to the exit. He had always done so, ever since she first came to her new job.

When she was still lost and scared, and he helped her with her new duties without question.

Bianka was very grateful for the kindness he showed her then.

“Any plans for today?” queried Eymen, when the woman joined him in the corridor.

“Actually, yes, I was going to read one of my…”

Bianka didn't have time to finish her thought when another sound echoed in the corridor, this time the one that preceded the announcement. A moment later, a dispassionate voice came from the speakers:

“All employees are to report to the assembly hall as a matter of priority.”

Bianka looked at Eymen. The man smiled reassuringly.

“At last something is happening in this jerkwater hole," he replied with a playful gleam in his eyes. “Let's go see what all this noise is about.”

The woman nodded and, having muttered a quiet, "Lead the way," they headed towards a separate building that housed a circular room capable of accommodating all one hundred scientists working for a mysterious organization under the guidance of the Cryo Archon – the Fatui. The Main Research Institute, where they were located, was the most important scientific centre in Snezhnaya, but definitely not the only one - dozens of other institutions cooperated with it, bringing together thousands of unexceptional, knowledge-thirsty researchers. All of this was only a small fraction of power at the disposal of Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa. If one were to add the military, the vast spy network and modern technology, the Ice-Bound Land seemed nigh invincible.

As they walked down successive corridors, they could hear the footsteps of other employees. Many of them were talking to each other in hushed voices, trying to figure out a reason for the sudden assembly. All of them wore masks covering the upper part of their faces, just like Bianka and Eymen.

After a while, the friends heard familiar voices.

“What is this row all about?” Wilhelm asked. “I was on the verge of pulling the best prank ever on Boris, when that devilish sound assaulted my eardrums. I almost went deaf!”

“Forgive me, chap, but I think your ears crossed the line from which there is no rescue a long time ago,” stated Tatiana. “Frankly, I don't understand how you manage to register anything with this imitation of the hearing organ.  If I were listening to that wail you dare to call music, I would definitely need an apparatus.”

Wilhelm threw himself at Tatiana, who managed to make a quick dodge. The man bumped into the wall, but it did not stop him from targeting his friend. The woman scurried off with Wilhelm treading on her heels. Kiang watched the scene with distaste, but soon she turned to Eymen and Bianka.

“Do you have any idea why they called a meeting?” questioned Eymen.

“I don't know exactly, but apparently a messenger arrived at the centre today. If the words of the two young girls from whom I managed to hear this information are to be believed, the messenger wore the colours of the Zapolyarny Palace.”

Bianka drew in the air loudly. The Zapolyarny Palace housed only the most senior commanders and officials, not to mention the Eleven Fatui Harbingers and Her Majesty. The arrival of someone from such an important place testified a matter of great importance.

They finally left the main building and, after a short jog through the several-degree frost, found themselves in the assembly hall. Half the seats were already taken, and more people kept arriving.

“Hey, chumps, over here!”

Kiang cursed under her breath and fixed her harpy gaze on Wilhelm who was waving at them from the third row. Tatiana sat right next to him, grinning widely.

“It looks like they saved us some seats," Eymen noted. “Admittedly, not in the first row, but it's the thought that counts, right?” He looked at Bianka, who winked as a sign of agreement.

The three joined the others. Before long, the room was filled with answer-hungry scientists. The feverish whispering was interrupted by the sound of the door opening abruptly. All heads turned towards the newcomer. The centre’s director strode swiftly across the room and turned to address the gathered researchers.

“Thank you for such a numerous arrival," he began. “I will get straight to the point. Tomorrow a special guest will arrive. Lord Il Dottore has decided to pay us a visit.”

The room was filled with surprised sighs and muffled shouts. It wasn’t a surprise – many Fatui had never seen any of the Harbingers in person, let alone such a high-ranking one. Lord Dottore, also known as the Doctor, was the Second of the Eleven Harbingers, which meant that in matters of strength he was bested only by the Jester, the Captain and the Tsaritsa herself. However, in terms of genius, he was second to none. Thanks to his research into human body enhancement and Delusions, the Fatui became the most powerful organization in all of Teyvat. Yet, everything came at a price. Dottore was infamous for his unethical experiments and deranged mind. The first thing Bianka heard about him after her incorporation was the advice to stay away from him.

The director clapped his hands several times to get the attention of the nervous scientists again.

“Please calm down, there is no reason to panic. The Doctor will arrive to check if all procedures and requirements have been followed. Your duties will not change. Work as before and nothing bad will happen. That would be all, you are dismissed.”

Slowly the room filled with murmurs. Bianka glanced at the other four. Wilhelm and Tatiana looked unsure, while Kiang tightened her lips in tension. Eymen seemed to be the least worried, but even he couldn't hide the slight concern gleaming in his eyes. Feeling Bianka's gaze on him, he snapped out of stupor and said cheerfully:

“Well, guess that means we can finally go back to our rooms.” He stretched and yawned. “At last, I was already starting to fall asleep.”

Everyone but Kiang giggled. Eymen always knew what to say to lighten the atmosphere. He stood up and headed for the exit, which was the signal for the others to follow suit. The third of the centre’s buildings housed their flats. Bianka and Eymen lived on the same floor, so, after saying a quick goodbye to the others, they took off arm-in-arm.

“Are you worried about the visit?” Eymen asked. Bianka furrowed her eyebrows.

“A little,” she admitted, “but not as much as to not sleep soundly tonight.”

“That’s good.” The man heaved a sigh of relief. “I think others are changing a fly into an elephant. It's normal for the Doctor to want an inspection. After all, the Main Research Institute belongs to him.”

They stopped at the door to Bianka's room. Eymen squeezed her shoulder, wished her a good night and marched on. The woman put her key card to the reader, making the red light next to it turn green. The door slid into the wall, inviting her in.

Her room was nothing special. It was quite small and contained only basic necessities - a bed just below the window, a small desk squeezed into a corner, a closet standing next to it and a few wall shelves. In addition, there was a small bathroom adjacent to each apartment, where no more than two steps could be taken. The kitchen was shared by the entire floor. Fortunately, its size allowed several people to comfortably prepare their meals simultaneously.

Bianka felt that after today's revelations she was too tired to finish the book she had been reading for a month. Instead, she unpacked her bag and took a hot shower (in such freezing conditions, it was a necessary part of everyday life). After leaving the bathroom, she happily headed to the bed. From the jar standing on the bedside table she took out a blue pill. She choked while swallowing as usual. ‘It's a pity they don't make smaller ones,’ she thought, before turning off the lamp and lying down. Despite the whole day’s events, her peace was not disturbed by any dreams.

****

A quiet ‘knock, knock... knock’ resounded in the room. Bianka smiled. This was another of her rituals with Eymen. The man always waited for her in the corridor, signalling his arrival with two quick and one slower knocks. Bianka finished packing and not a minute later was already greeting her friend, both of them hidden behind their masks.

“Ready for today's visitation?” asked Eymen briskly. The woman tensed up. She almost managed to forget about the unusual visitor who was to tour them that day. She quickly shook it off and nodded her head. Without delaying any longer, the scientists headed for the exit, where they encountered Kiang, as well as Wilhelm and Tatiana, who were immersed in an animated conversation.

“I tell you, so much gold! Such a big pile!” Wilhelm stretched upwards as far as he could. Tatiana snorted.

“I don't know how much Fire-Water you drank yesterday, but from what I hear more than usual, if you had such dreams. A pile of gold, ha! Be careful that this dream doesn't come true for you in only one part, and not the one with the gold. I’ve heard that a place in the laundry has become vacant. Perhaps you would be willing to work with piles of dirty, smelly clothes?”

The man gave Tatiana a nudge, at which she kicked him in the calf. Wilhelm dashed after her the moment the frosty morning air hit them.

“Hey, where are you running to!” growled Kiang. “For Archons’ sake, could you stop for at least…”

“Do you think it's him?” Bianka interrupted. As if on command, everyone, including Wilhelm and Tatiana, turned towards the stranger talking with their director in the distance. The man towered over his interlocutor, looking haughtily at him. He wore a long white coat, loose pants and knee-high boots. His hands, clad in black gloves, were crossed on his back, and his long hair resembling the colour of the sky fluttered in the wind. Sensing their curious stares, the man turned and sized the group up – or at least that's what they suspected, since his face was covered with a mask shaped like a bird's beak. The friends picked up the pace, pretending that the mysterious stranger, who was certainly their awaited "guest" and the director did not exist. Only when the doors of the main building closed behind them did they breathe a clear sigh of relief.

“Good gracious, I didn't know he was so big!” Kiang exclaimed.

“Did you see what face he made when he looked at us?” Wilhelm added. “As if he had eaten a lemon. And a rotten one at that.”

“I wager that he always looks like that. He didn't treat the director any better either.”

“I suggest not to think too much about it," said Eymen. “The wisest thing would be to hole up in our laboratory and not cause any sensations. You'll see, before we know it, the Doctor will be far from here.”

Eymen's words calmed them down a bit. They marched on, trying to put the Second Harbinger out of their minds. Walking to the lab, Bianka sized her friends up with a careful glance. Although they tried very hard, they couldn’t hide the telltale signs of nervousness. Meanwhile, she herself didn’t feel fear, but rather curiosity. The chance to see one of Her Majesty's subordinates up close was often a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and she wasn't about to forfeit it.

“I have one more suggestion," Kiang spoke up. “I think we should not take off our masks today, even in the laboratory.”

“And why’s that?”

The woman looked behind her, deep into the corridor.

“A hunch," she replied gloomily.

Having reached the lab, everyone strode to their own stations and returned to working on their projects. Bianka once again immersed herself in the scent of chemicals, mixing specifics and calculating concentrations of reagents. Her work absorbed her so much that she completely forgot about the Doctor. The others looked more relaxed too – she could hear quiet whispers coming from Wilhelm and Tatiana and Kiang's mumbling. When Bianka turned to Eymen, he winked at her in response.

Less than four hours later everyone felt safe enough to exchange a few sentences with each other. Bianka glanced at the clock. Only half an hour left until break. She was sure that nothing noteworthy would happen during this time.

Suddenly, the doors of the laboratory opened with a bang and the one who was the source of their unnatural fear walked in.

The entire room froze in silent shock and anticipation of what would happen now. Dot-tore, having closed the door behind him, stood in the middle of the lab with a notebook in his hand and began to analyse its contents. After a few seconds of overwhelming silence, he raised his head, looked around the room with displeasure written on his face, and growled:

“What seems to be the problem? Why aren’t you working?”

Everyone immediately rushed to the forgotten test tubes and beakers. Bianka took a few deep breaths to calm her thoughts. The Doctor's presence in their laboratory might have been surprising, but certainly not unexpected. She remembered Eymen's soothing words and felt her tense muscles relax. As long as she continued to do her job, Lord Dottore would have nothing on her.

In the background, she could hear scraping of a pen on paper and quiet grumbling. A moment later, a sound of unhurried footsteps resounded in the room. When she dared to glance in the Doctor's direction, she saw him leaning over a visibly terrified Wilhelm. The man was doing his best to ignore the medic's presence, but even from her place across the room Bianka could see how badly his hands were shaking. Dottore apparently noticed this as well, because he snorted with distaste, opened his notebook and crossed out the noted words with a quick movement. Hearing an ominous scratch, Wilhelm balled up and swallowed loudly.

Similar situation repeated with both Tatiana and Kiang. Each time, the Doctor approached the delinquent and watched them work for several seconds. After that, he would shake his head or tut in displeasure, cross something out in his pad and walk to the next person. Bianka glanced at Eymen, whom the Harbinger took as his next target. Even if her friend was nervous, he didn't let it show. He was so engrossed in his work that he didn't even notice the approaching man. He was just carrying several vials filled with a colourless liquid when he stumbled over a smaller table standing off to the side. The woman watched in horror as Eymen fell with the vials shattering all around him. For a few seconds, the entire group froze; everyone was too afraid to even move a hand. When Bianka recovered from her shock, a clearly furious Dottore was already towering over Eymen. The Doctor held his jaw in an iron grip and pointed him upwards so he could look him straight in the face.

“Was there anything toxic in those vials?” he asked. Eymen tried to shake his head, what wasn’t easy, given that the medic was still holding him tightly.

“No, my lord. Just water.”

“In that case, get on with the cleaning!”

The man threw poor Eymen on the floor. The scientist managed to hold back a cry of pain, bravely enduring the harsh treatment. He muttered a quiet, "Of course, my lord," and started cleaning up the broken glass. Without thinking about her next move, Bianka approached her friend and joined him in picking up the glass pieces. Eymen looked at her in surprise. From such a short distance, she could see the silent question in his eyes. The woman smiled encouragingly at him before grabbing another shard. Somewhere up above, she heard a loud scratch.

After cleaning up the mess, Bianka returned to her workstation just in time to add another reagent to the resulting mixture. At the same time, she waited for the inevitable sound of heels hitting the floor – of the entire room, only her work had not yet been assessed. And she was not disappointed, for after a few seconds she felt an ominous aura behind her back that could belong only to Lord Dottore. However, she was not going to get intimidated so easily. With a quick flick of her hand, she ripped a sheet of paper from her notebook and wrote down the next calculation, leaving the Harbinger to his own devices. Only when the man got so close that she felt his hot breath on the back of her neck did she straightened up and turned towards him. The move startled the Doctor, who stepped back a bit.

“Do you need anything, my lord?” she asked kindly. “I noticed that you approached each one of us, but no one offered you their help. On behalf of all of us, I apologize for this lack of courtesy.”

Dottore stared incredulously at her for a long time. Bianka guessed that he rarely encountered such cultured behaviour, not caused by pure fear. After a moment, he regained his self-assurance. He cleared his throat, straightened up and looked at her with superiority.

“No, thank you for the proposal," he muttered in a bored voice. “Go back to your work.”

The woman bowed and turned back towards the counter. She could still feel the Doctor's presence, but this time it was not so overwhelming. The man jotted down a few sentences in his pad, but this time she didn't hear the dreaded scratch. Moments later, the receding sound of footsteps followed by the door closing told her that the visitation was over. She sighed, feeling the tension leave her body, and let a slight smile dance on her face.

Not even a minute had passed when a loud ringing communicated a lunch break. The scientists, some with their hands still trembling, stepped away from the tables and headed for the exit. None of them spoke up.

“Is everything all right?” Bianka decided to break the silence by turning to Eymen. “Did you hurt yourself?”

“No, no, it's fine, thanks.” The man smiled, but Bianka noticed that his eyes were devoid of their natural spark. Her friend was clearly distressed.

“For the love of gods, I’m happy that it’s behind us," Wilhelm sighed. “I thought we wouldn't get out of there with our lives. I could practically feel the claws of death clamping down on my ne…”

Kiang swatted Wilhelm in the back of his head, not letting him finish.

“I think we all agree that you constantly wagging your tongue is unbearable," she hissed. “I suggest you finally shut up!”

“Not so harsh, Kiang," Eymen calmed. “Surely everyone is stressed, but taking it out on others to relieve yourself is not a dignified behaviour.”

The woman grunted something under her breath, but didn’t speak again.

Over lunch, their usual chitter-chatter was almost non-existent. Everyone was too immersed in their own thoughts to exchange more than two sentences with each other. This was such uncommon behaviour for them that many people from other tables were glancing curiously in their direction. Bianka felt a sting in her heart, regretting that things had turned out this way.

“Hey, I have an idea," she said finally. “How about going to the ‘Snow Boar’ today? I think a moment of relaxation would do us good.”

The others didn’t respond immediately. However, despite their initial lack of enthusiasm, Bianka noticed how Wilhelm and Tatiana straightened up in anticipation of further words. Eymen looked at the ceiling, pondering the idea. After a while a slight smile appeared on his face.

“You know what? I think this is a pretty good idea.”

Everyone's attention focused on the man.

“Let's face it: the mere knowledge that the Doctor is present in our centre is stomach-churning. We had to face him in the flesh and managed to stay unscathed. If we are not due for a vacation for surviving his inspection, I don't know who deserves one.”

Wilhelm smiled broadly.

“It's good that at least some of us are still able to think clearly. Come here to me, you sharp cookies.“ The man drew Eymen and Bianka to himself and kissed each one on the cheek. Bianka giggled, blushing slightly.

“In that case, tonight at six o'clock we meet at the exit," Eymen added. “And I advise you not to be late, we won’t be waiting for anyone.”

His words were summed up by the bell ending the break. Not tarrying, the friends headed back to the lab. However, one of the of the scientists accosted them, panting heavily from running through several corridors.

“Excuse me," the newcomer choked out. “Do I have the pleasure of speaking with Miss Bianka?”

The woman felt an unpleasant shiver run down her spine. She had a premonition that the man was not bringing good news.

“Yes, that’s me," she replied. “How can I help you?”

The researcher took a few more deep breaths and said:

“The director summons you. He wants you to come immediately.”

Bianka froze. A summon from the director himself was rare, and happened only in two cases: when someone had managed to make a breakthrough in their research or when they were in serious trouble. The woman knew that she had not achieved anything significant recently, so there was only one option left. She peeked apprehensively at the rest of the group, who reciprocated with equally uncertain looks. Eymen nodded at her and reassured her with a smile, as if to say, “Go. Everything will be fine."

Bianka took a deep breath, thanked the scientist for delivering the news and headed down the corridor. Along the way she passed other employees who looked back at her, trying to recognise her among many similar faces. Finally, she stood in front of the office door. She counted to five to collect her thoughts and, without hesitating any longer, knocked loudly.

“Who’s coming?” a strong voice spoke up from the other side of the door.

“Doctor Bianka," she answered just as confidently. “I was informed that you wanted to see me, sir.”

“Please, come in.”

The researcher stepped into the small but neatly decorated room and faced her superior.

“Bianka, it's good that you managed to come so quickly," the director greeted her. “Our today's... guest insisted on meeting you, he wishes to exchange a few words. I believe you already had a chance to meet in somewhat unusual circumstances.”

The director pointed at the other person present in the room. The woman felt her heart stop in her chest when she saw a relaxed man, sprawled on the sofa with his arms resting on a backrest. And he was none other than Il Dottore, the Second of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers.

Chapter Text

Bianka stared at the Second Harbinger, unable to muster even a word. It's one thing to find yourself in the presence of your most powerful superior, but quite another to have to hold a conversation with him. The woman was completely unprepared for such a contingency. Dottore, on the other hand, rose from the sofa and unhurriedly approached her, ignoring the director, who stepped back and respectfully lowered his head.

Up this close she could get a better look at him. Most of the Doctor's face was covered by a mask, but she could still see that he had a well-defined jaw and a swarthy complexion. She concluded that he was from Natlan or, like Eymen, from Sumeru. From his ear dangled a long earring filled with some blue, unknown to her substance. She noticed that the man was particularly fond of this colour, as it dominated his accessories. The most striking element of his design was an artificial raven's head with a gilded beak resting on his shoulder, extending into something resembling a feather mantle. His shoulders and torso were decorated by a black harness that further accentuated his well-built physique.

At the same time, Dottore was also looking at Bianka, however, he was not interested in her appearance. He was curious how she would react to his presence. Would she start shaking with fear? Or maybe, taking the director as an example, she would lower her head and try to shrink as much as possible to escape his attentive gaze? To his slight surprise, Bianka did neither of these things. Instead, she looked straight at him, nay!, she still had the audacity to look him up and down with a gaze that hid only curiosity. Her unfaltering demeanour made him think of a white mouse who, despite his threats, managed to survive another day in the monster's lair, as others used to call his laboratory. Rather than feeling indignation, the Doctor was pleased – after all, his aim was to find someone competent, not a shivering jelly. Still, he had to show this girl who was in charge here.

“If you've already managed to break me down and analyse every part, I'd have a few questions for you,” he said calmly but firmly. Bianka shuddered, as if snapped out of trance.

“Of course, my lord. I am at your disposal,” she replied, bowing slightly.

“Firstly, tell me your name and where you come from.”

The woman felt consternation. Those were basic information, surely they were written down in the files that kept the data of every employee. She decided not to ponder it too much.

“I’m Bianka Snezhevna. I grew up in the House of the Hearth, in which I was placed when I was five years old. I was told that my parents came from Fontaine, but I don't remember anything from before the orphanage.”

Dottore nodded, agreeing with her answer. The same was written in her papers.

“How long have you been working here?”

“Not long, only three years,” she answered honestly. “I always showed an interest in themes related to biology and chemistry, so, when I reached adulthood, I was sent to one of the centres where I studied these subjects for four years. Then I ended up here.”

“What do you specialise in?”

“In poisons and toxins, my lord.”

Dottore propped his face up with his hand and went silent, analysing her answer. During this time, Bianka waited patiently for next questions. Finally, the man nodded and tsked in slight exasperation.

“Not the best field, but fine. Tell me now if you are squeamish to blood or viscera. I realise that creating poisons and seeing their effect are two different things.”

The researcher felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She didn't like these questions. Why was Lord Dottore so interested in her? She was just a simple orphan.

“No, my lord. Biology included classes in the dissecting room, which helped to weed the fear out.”

The Doctor nodded again, then asked her a few more questions, such as whether she could work under time pressure and how long she could endure without rest. Finally, satisfied with all the answers, he turned to the other man, who was still standing in the corner of the room and listening to the conversation.

“Director, and what can you tell me about Dr Bianka? Do you think she is suitable?”

Bianka didn't understand anything from this question. She couldn't figure out what she might be suitable for. However, the director seemed to know it was all about, because he replied unfalteringly:

“Dr Bianka has always shown herself to be competent and very knowledgeable in her field. She has carried out the duties assigned to her without question and has always offered a helping hand to others. I don't know anyone else who would be better for this job.”

“It's settled, then.”

Bianka looked at both men. The expressions on their faces haven’t changed, but she sensed that something important had happened. She had not heard anyone before being rewarded with such warm words as she has been now.

“Well, looking at your blank expression, I think I should tell you what actually occurred here,” Dottore said. “To put it briefly, you've just been promoted.”

Bianka looked at him with quite an unintelligent expression on her face.

“Promoted?” she repeated.

“That's exactly what I just said,” Dottore growled irritably. Those who worked with him knew that he didn’t like repeating himself. He quickly regained his composure, however, and continued, “If the director has complied with my order, you have been told that I came here to perform an inspection.” Bianka nodded her head. The man muttered, satisfied. “That was only one reason, and less important one at that. My main goal was to find someone who could help me with my experiments. Of course, I am able to work alone, however, the presence of an assistant would increase the speed and productivity of the research.

Bianka's eyes widened in understanding. She had no idea whether she should be afraid, joyful or sad. The chance to work alongside such a distinguished figure was a once in a in a lifetime opportunity, and yet the woman remembered the rumours. Rumours about what had happened with the Second Harbinger's previous assistants. She did not know how much truth there was in them, but one thing was certain: it did not end well for them.

“Remember, from this point forward you are subject only to me and you obey only my orders,” he pointed out. “Don't return to the lab anymore, go to your room and pack. We leave tomorrow at seven in the morning sharp. Don't be late.”

After these words, Dottore turned towards his desk, but before he could forget about Bianka, she managed to utter:

“Could I ask one question now, my lord?”

The Doctor paused and looked back at his new subordinate. Somewhere in the back, the director held his breath but remained in his place. The Harbinger muttered in thought.

“I think, in return for your earlier questions, I can indulge your curiosity. So ask.”

“Why me and not someone else, my lord? I understand that I am competent, but there are certainly others more knowledgeable and experienced than me.”

Dottore nodded his head, signalling that he had expected this question.

“For the better part of a day I have been inspecting every laboratory in this facility, assessing the ability and focus of the scientists in my presence. At the mere sight of me, most of them grew weak or began to shake with fear. A little bit of stress is beneficial, it increases the speed of work, but I cannot have an assistant who, instead of helping with research, will hide from me in the corners. You, on the other hand, remained calm and even offered me your help, which no one else did. This way I have come to the conclusion that you will have no problem working by my side. I hope I won't have anything to complain about either.” Saying this, he lowered his voice and looked down at her. Despite his mask, Bianka could feel his analysing gaze on her. “If that's all, you can leave,” he concluded. “Remember, we're leaving at seven.”

Then the Doctor lost all interest in her and moved towards the table on which her files were lying. Bianka bowed and shakily left the office. She felt a tornado unleash in her mind.

‘To work for the Doctor? As his personal assistant? Well, things certainly have gotten crazy!’ she mused.

She was so immersed in processing new information that she didn't realise when her feet carried her to her flat. She stepped into the room that had been her home for the past three years. ‘I should start packing,’ she thought, and yet she couldn't bring herself to take even a step forward. Instead, she sank down on the bed and stared dully into space. She didn't know how long she had sat like that, but when she emerged from her reverie, she heard a knock on the door. Upon unlocking it, her eyes were met by Eymen’s anxious face. Seeing that Bianka was safe and sound, he sighed with relief.

“Where have you been so long?” he choked out. “I was afraid that something had happened to you!”

Bianka tried to answer, but no sound came out of her mouth. She shook her head and invited Eymen inside. Her friend followed her uncertainly and sat down on the bed right next to her, waiting for an explanation. The woman took a deep breath.

“After the scientist arrived with the news, I immediately went to the director's office...” she began. She then recounted to Eymen her meeting with the Second Harbinger, describing their conversation and the real reason for the Doctor's visit. The man listened to her words with growing shock.

“He chose you?” he asked in disbelief. “You are to become Lord Dottore's assistant?”

Bianka tried to dismiss the thought, push it away to the furthest recesses of her mind, but when she heard it from Eymen's mouth, the awareness and importance of her new position hit her with full force. She felt her eyes fill with tears and her lip twitch with barely contained emotions. Eymen sensed her pain and reached out to enclose her in a hug. It was then that the woman felt she could no longer hold back. She embraced her friend and sobbed, letting the tears flow freely down her face. The man stroked her back, whispering words of comfort and encouragement, but she felt too much fear for them to help her. She feared for her future, her health and even her life, for she knew that with someone like Lord Dottore, no one could feel safe.

“Don't worry, Bianka," Eymen muttered. “You are stronger than you think. I'm sure you'll get around it.”

The woman felt gratefulness that she had been given the opportunity to come across such a good man as Eymen in her life. He had always been kind and helpful to her; he had stayed by her side both during the bad days, when she felt that everything she touched was turning to dust, as well as sharing the happy moments with her after achieving many successes.

After a few minutes, the sobs subsided and the fear and pain turned to apathy. Eymen did not stop hugging her; only when she patted his back did he let her out of his embrace.

“Are you feeling better now?” he asked softly. With her eyes still reddened, Bianka nodded. The man stroked her cheek, wiping away the trail left by tears. “Don't think about it so much. Remember that we're going to the “Snow Boar” today. You won't have time to worry.”

The woman managed to smile weakly. One last outing with her friends before leaving would certainly do her good. Eymen's face became serious again.

“When are you going to leave?” He asked.

“Tomorrow at dawn, unfortunately,” she replied, feeling sadness sweep over her again. The man nodded.

“In that case, we must make the most of today.” Having said that, he rose from the bed and helped her get up. “I'm going to go to my place now, and you get changed. You don't want to go to the bar in a lab coat, do you?”

The man left the room and Bianka, without wasting any more time, began to look through the clothes in the wardrobe.

****

It was completely dark outside, with thick snowflakes falling from the black sky. Bianka snuggled her face into her scarf to keep warm. Next to her, Tatiana rubbed her cold hands and stomped to stimulate circulation.

“Where have they gone?” she grunted in exasperation. “One minute longer and all that will be left of us are icicles.”

Kiang stood next to her, completely unconcerned about the frost and snow.

“What did you expect from men?” she snorted. “They can't be trusted, every one of them has some defect in their software. Bianka, remember: Doctor, the strongest and Doctor, the most intelligent, but always rely on yourself first.”

When Bianka was preparing to leave, Eymen told the other three about her meeting with the Second Harbinger and her imminent departure. This caused considerable bewilderment, but, for Bianka's sake and peace of mind, they all decided not to mention it, and to enjoy their remaining time instead. The woman was immensely grateful to them.

Moments later, the door opened, letting out layered up Wilhelm and Eymen.

“Ready for some fun?” Eymen asked jauntily.

“Why, do you think we're standing here to watch the stars in the sky?” Tatiana snorted. “Of course we're ready. I have already booked a sleigh.”

The carriage was waiting for them near the exit. It was big enough for all five of them to fit in.

“Bianka, move a little towards Eymen,” Wilhelm said. “I can't fit in this seat. The last thing I want is to fall off during the ride and for you to leave me in this cursed snow.”

The woman obediently snuggled against her friend, who embraced her to make more room for Wilhelm.  At that moment, the carrier flicked the reins. Thick-furred horses snarled and set off, raising clouds of white powder. As they rode, the frosty wind assaulted their faces, but they paid no attention to it. The harsh climate of Snezhnaya was able to harden even the most hard-core “thermophiles”. Moreover, they were protected by the masks they had to wear even outside their workplace.

The ride didn’t last long. After about ten minutes, they found themselves in front of the entrance to a wooden building; soft yellow light poured from its windows. Tatiana paid the carter and then the whole group went inside. They were greeted by warmth and a buzz of conversation. A pleasant smell of cooked meat and vegetables wafted in the air. The room they found themselves in was spacious. It contained several round tables of carved wood and an empty space for dancing. Two big tusks of the Snezhnayan Boar, from which the tavern took its name, were attached to the wall above the counter.

A few heads turned in their direction, but no one seemed really concerned by the arrival of the Fatui members. The whole of Snezhnaya was almost swarming with Tsaritsa's minions. Their presence was nothing special, especially as this tavern was the one closest to the Main Research Institute. It was not uncommon for weary scientists to seek respite from their work here.

“All right, folks, I'm taking orders,” Tatiana declared. “What are your wishes? Beer, vodka? Kiang, if you ask for tea this time too, you're going back on foot.”

Kiang threw her a murderous look, but, nonetheless, asked for a glass of Fire-Water (“For a good start,” she said). After collecting all the orders, Tatiana sauntered to the counter, talking to the innkeeper as the others took a vacant table. After a minute, a steaming mug of mulled wine was already standing in front of Bianka. Wilhelm took a large sip of his beer and sighed contentedly.

“How good it is to be able to forget all this experimenting even for a while,” he said. “Your life can’t revolve only around numbers, letters and the multiplication table. Although Kiang probably wouldn't mind.”

The woman grasped her glass so tightly that Bianka heard the sound of it cracking. She had to defuse the atmosphere somehow before Kiang's Fire-Water magically found itself on Wilhelm's head.

“Maybe it’s true,” she began, “but on our part, if we hadn't stopped you from smuggling beer into the laboratory, your blood would have turned into pure ethanol a long time ago.”

Tatiana cackled under her breath, while Wilhelm made an offended face. Kiang seemed pleased with such a turn of events. Bianka felt Eymen squeeze her hand under the table. The friends plunged into casual conversation, discussing work, badmouthing their superiors and recalling how Wilhelm had nearly been trampled by horses when he was drunkenly returning to the laboratory in complete darkness. He himself insisted that in the morning he had woken up in his bed with no memory of anything that had happened the previous day. Moments later, snacks were brought to the table, consisting of snezhnayan pierogi and roast chicken wings. Everyone threw themselves at them with relish.

While listening to yet another anecdote, Bianka heard someone's excited whispers just behind her back. She started to eavesdrop on them, but what she heard made her shudder.

“Did you hear about the arrival of this mysterious visitor?” whispered the first voice. “Apparently, one of the Harbingers has appeared in nearby research facility. It's not hard to guess which one.”

“What are you saying?!” a second voice spoke up. “Could it be the Doctor himself? What is he doing there? Shouldn't he rather hole up in a basement somewhere doing those experiments of his?”

“Not so loud! You want everyone to hear you?!” The strangers lowered their voices even more. Bianka had to make an effort to distinguish all the words. “I have no idea what the arrival of Dottore means, but certainly nothing good. I've heard that he likes to see others’ suffering, and those who managed to escape from his laboratory had their bodies horribly mutilated, not to mention their psyches.”

“It's horrible. I, for one, have heard that the Doctor cuts out the hearts of traitors while they are still alive and devours them before their eyes. He's a true monster!”

After hearing these revelations, Bianka completely lost her appetite. She straightened up in her chair with a sour face. Eymen saw her distress.

“Is something wrong? Are you feeling unwell?” he worried. Bianka shook her head.

“It's nothing, just a stomach ache,” she lied. Eymen nodded.

“Indeed, these dumplings are really spicy. I'll get you something milder,” he said, getting up from the table and heading towards the counter. A moment later, he returned with buttered toasts. Bianka nibbled on one a few times to not look suspicious. She was slowly beginning to regret the idea of going to the tavern. If she had stayed in the room, she could have tried to relax with a good book and some biscuits with tea. Meanwhile, she had to hear about the monstrosities her new master was capable of. She could feel her insides twisting with fear.

Suddenly Wilhelm stood up from the table and raised his beer mug in the air before announcing:

“I would like to raise a toast to Bianka's success. She is the only one who has managed to achieve something more than being just another lacklustre scientist that no-one will remember. For that, she deserves our respect.”

Bianka blushed with embarrassment. She felt that Wilhelm was exaggerating a bit, however, the others must have been of a different opinion, as they also rose from their seats.

“To Bianka!” he exclaimed.

“To Bianka!” The others joined in, clinking mugs, cups and glasses. The researcher smiled and bowed her head in gratitude. At the same moment, the sound of gusles, pipes and drums reverberated through the room. Happy customers applauded as the first notes of a lively song rang out.

“At last," Wilhelm said. “It was starting to get boring. Tatiana, are you going to dance?”

Tatiana did not need much encouragement. She accepted Wilhelm's outstretched hand and he led her onto the dance floor. After a while, they were dancing with such verve that Bianka wondered how they hadn't broken anything yet. She was so absorbed in watching her two friends that it was only after a while that she realised Kiang was pulling her towards the dancing people.

“Come, you should stretch your legs a bit too.” Not hesitating any longer, Bianka followed her friend, leaving the grinning Eymen alone at the table. The woman had to admit that Kiang had a knack for dancing. After only a moment, she was already gyrating and twirling with such energy, that would make many Snezhnayans jealous, forcing Bianka to do the same. Five minutes later, the researcher was wet with sweat and her pupils were dilated from emotions. The alcohol coursing through her veins only encouraged her to continue dancing. At one point, Eymen switched with Kiang and took Bianka by his arm. People clapped, laughed and encouraged the dancers to perform new figures, allowing the woman to push thoughts of Lord Dottore away.

However, all fun must come to an end at some point. As the last notes of the song rang out, Eymen once again spun Bianka around and drew her close. Their faces were so close that the researcher felt a blush covering her cheeks. Before anything could happen, however, the other friends rushed at the couple with laughter.

“That was something!” Wilhelm rejoiced. “I haven't had so much fun for a long time.”

Tatiana and Kiang agreed with him, while Bianka quickly moved away from Eymen, grunting in embarrassment. If she had looked in his direction, she would have seen sadness he failed to hide despite a cheerful atmosphere.

Before they knew it, the owner was already closing his inn, and they were sitting back in the sleigh, returning to their own flats. Bianka was feeling much calmer. She still remembered the Doctor, but the vision of working alongside him no longer frightened her so much. Who knows, maybe the Second Harbinger could share his vast knowledge of machines or the secrets of the human body with her...?

The harsh light of the fluorescent lights informed them that they had arrived at their destination. The entire complex was lit at all times. It made it easier for guards to patrol, and harder for potential spies and saboteurs to sneak around in the shadows. However, Bianka doubted that anyone would want to break into the centre now that Lord Dottore was staying there.

‘By the way, I wonder which room was assigned to him,’ she wondered.

Once inside, she felt the frost that had penetrated her to the bone subside, allowing the pleasant warmth to seep into her body. The others were trying to shake off the layer of frost that covered them during ride.

“This cursed snow,” mumbled Kiang. “I don't know what others see in it. In Liyue it would be unthinkable.”

“It's getting late. Let's go back to our rooms, tomorrow is an important day for Bianka,” Eymen suggested.

The others agreed with him and after short farewells they went their separate ways. Bianka and Eymen walked side by side in silence.

“How are you feeling?” asked her friend when they reached the first room. “Would you like me to help you with the packing?”

The woman smiled and shook her head.

“Don't fret so much, I’ll manage,” she assured him. Eymen blushed, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

“Very well, have a good night then. I'm sure you're excited, thinking about tomorrow, but remember to have some rest.”

Bianka had to push Eymen towards his flat to get him to finally move. Laughing loudly, he waved her goodbye before disappearing around the corner. The young doctor stepped into her own room and looked around. All the items stood where she had left them. Despite her imminent departure, she no longer felt sadness, which was slowly being replaced by the curiosity she knew so well. With renewed vigour, she pulled her old rucksack out of the wardrobe, and began to pack all her possessions.

****

Bianka snapped out of her reverie and glanced at the clock again. 6:50 am. She had to hurry if she didn't want to be late. She threw her rucksack over her shoulders (its lightness made her strangely melancholic), swept her gaze around the room one last time to make sure she hadn't left anything behind, and left it forever...

...only to almost get knocked over by her yelling friends.

“What...?” Bianka looked around in bewilderment, trying to understand what was actually happening.

“You didn't think we'd let you leave without saying goodbye, did you?” Wilhelm asked with a broad smile. The woman saw that all her friends were here. Work didn't start until eight o'clock, which meant that they had purposely got up early to wish her good luck. She felt her eyes fill with tears.

“Don't believe his words, he barely managed to roll out of bed,” Tatiana sniggered. “I had to throw him down on the floor, only then he finally deigned to move his noble ass.”

“Hey!”

“Bianka, if you don't mind, we wanted to give you something to remind you of us,” Eymen said.

“Oh my, you didn’t have to, really…”

“But we want to,” Kiang interjected, “and since I've stepped forward, I might as well start.” She pulled a small longitudinal box out of her pocket. “I bought this fountain pen during my time in Liyue, but somehow I never got the chance to try it out. I think it will serve you better than me.”

Bianka accepted the gift and looked at her new acquisition. Through the glass, she saw that the pen was all black, including the nib, but there were delicately marked constellations along the entire length. In Teyvat it was said that, even if all your loved ones were gone, the stars would always have a place for you. The woman carefully put the gift away so as not to damage it.

Tatiana approached next.

“One day I was strolling through a market in the capital and this figurine caught my eye. I bought it because, you know, I really like reptiles. However, when I looked at it yesterday, I realised it reminded me of you; it has the same curiosity in its eyes. Maybe you could decorate your new room with it?”

Tatiana handed Bianka a figurine of a blue dragon. The reptile was standing on a flat rock and stretching its long neck far out. Despite its powerful wings, long fangs and claws, the animal did not look sinister. Its eyes were full of sparkles, as if it was eager to find out what was hiding beyond the horizon. Bianka smiled, hiding the figure.

Before Eymen could take a step, Wilhelm was already standing in front of Bianka, hiding something behind his back and grinning stupidly. The researcher had some suspicions about his gift.

“I realise that work is important and necessary,” Tatiana failed to hold back a loud snort, “but you can't forget to relax sometimes. That is why my gift is the most thoughtful of all.” That said, he pulled a bottle of red wine from behind. Bianka's suspicions came true in one hundred per cent. “You will probably think, 'Silly Wilhelm, I could buy wine like this in any inn or shop'. Well, no. When Boris and I were still working together, we were sent on a mission to Mondstadt, where I had the chance to come into possession of this stonker. This wine was made at the Dawn Winery, the best liquor producer that exists in Teyvat. It’s so exquisite that it would be a pity to even drink it. Of course, you will do what you want with it.”

“Thank you, Wilhelm. I promise to share it only with a person worthy of your gift.”

The man bowed, then handed the wine to Bianka. The woman carefully packed the bottle so that it would not break during the journey.

At the very end, her dearest friend approached her, with a gentle smile and tenderness in his eyes.

“Bianka," Eymen began, "first of all, on behalf of all of us, I would like to thank you for three years of cooperation, for your helping hand and for the smile that never left your face. We will miss you dearly, but we believe that you will do very well in your new position.”

Bianka tried to hold back the tears swelling in her eyes. ‘Get a grip, woman!’ she commanded herself. ‘You can't cry now.’

“I would like to present you with something I have a great sentiment for," Eymen continued. He took out a small cubic box from inside his coat. “This item was given to me by my mother shortly before her death. She told me to give it to someone I would respect and trust. I don't know anyone else who deserves it more than you.”

With shaking hands, Bianka accepted the box and opened it, showing everyone a silver chain. When she raised it to the light, she saw that it had a tree shaped pendant; its roots extended and met above the crown, enclosing the plant in a circle. Even at first glance, it was obvious that it was a craftsmanship. The woman knew that no words could express the gratitude and sadness she felt at the thought of leaving the only people she could call friends, so she let her eyes speak for her.

“Could you...?” Bianka was unable to say anything more, but Eymen understood. He took the chain from her and hung it around her neck. After hearing a quiet click, she turned back towards the others, who were as moved as she was. One by one, each of them came up to hug her one last time. When it was Eymen's turn, instead of embracing her, he pressed his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. Only then did Bianka fully realise the depth of his feelings. She thought that Eymen had not seen her as just a friend for a long time. She regretted that things had to turn out this way.

After a moment, the man stepped away from Bianka and squeezed her shoulder.

“We'll walk you to the exit. Lord Dottore is surely already waiting for you.”

Because of the farewell, the researcher forgot that she had purposely left early so as not to be late for the agreed time. With trepidation, she turned towards Wilhelm, who always carried a watch with him.

“What time is it?” she asked frantically. Wilhelm glanced at his watch.

“Two past seven,” he replied. Bianka froze in horror.

“Oh no! I'm already late!” she exclaimed. “Quick, let's run!”

The woman rushed down the corridor without looking back. She heard the others dash after her, stamping loudly. She sincerely hoped that her friends wouldn't get in trouble by making such noise.

Finally, they reached the exit, panting from exertion. Bianka was already grabbing the handle when Tatiana pushed something into her hand.

“You'll see later. Now go.”

The woman put the mysterious thing in her pocket and opened the door. She was hit by a frosty air. In the distance, she could already see three figures - one upright and impassive, and the others hovering by the carriages that would take her into the unknown. Bianka rushed towards her new superior with full speed. When she was closer, she saw that the Doctor was staring at his wristwatch with a very displeased expression.

“You're four minutes late,” he growled in greeting. “I expect you to be more punctual in the future.”

The woman swallowed loudly. She felt that the Doctor had a gift for putting people in a bad mood, but she promised herself that nothing would spoil her this day. For her friends.

“Of course, my lord.”

“Let's not waste any more time here. This carriage is yours, I will be in the other.” That said, he turned and disappeared in one of the vehicles. The coachman helped Bianka into the carriage. Before she disappeared inside, she turned towards the centre one last time. She was unable to hold back a lone tear when she saw her friends waving at her from the entrance. She smiled broadly and also waved goodbye.

“My lady, we have to go now,” the man rushed her. Bianka was a little surprised that he addressed her so formally, but disappeared inside without complaining.

The carriage was warm and dark. Benches were covered with thick fur and curtains were a soft yellow, giving the interior a cosy look. Bianka sat down comfortably, and a few seconds later she felt a tug indicating that they had finally started out. The woman took a deep breath. She felt that a certain part of her life had just come to an end, but she also knew that the end always spells the beginning of something new and unknown. However, she was not afraid of challenges.

She was fully prepared to face them.

Chapter Text

The carriage jumped on a stone, snapping Bianka out of her deep reverie. She looked out of the window again, but the landscape had not changed significantly. As far as the eye could see, an icy desert stretched away. The whiteness was striking, interrupted from time to time by the presence of a lone spruce tree. In the distance, she could see a mountain range whose peaks disappeared somewhere in the clouds which covered the sky and painted it grey.

‘It's going to rain,’ she thought.

Bianka pulled back the curtains, shutting out the monotonous view. They had been on the road for about two hours now. At first, the woman felt excitement at the thought of what awaited her, but her interest soon gave way to boredom. Unfortunately, it didn't look like they were going to arrive any time soon. She sighed and sank deeper into her seat. Then she felt something press into her side. Surprised, she slid her hand into her pocket, coming across a hard object. She remembered that before she left, Tatiana had managed to slip something into her hand. Bianka, being in a hurry at the time, shoved the unfamiliar item into her pocket - an item she decided to look at now.

She carefully took out a rectangular card, which turned out to be a photograph. When Bianka saw what it depicted, she was instantly overwhelmed with emotions. She saw their laughing friends during a trip to the capital. Wilhelm and Tatiana occupied most of the photograph, laughing to their hearts' content and holding a mug of beer each. Kiang stood next to them, trying to force a smile, however, her eyes were sending lightning bolts in their direction. Bianka, along with Eymen, stood to the side. Their gentle gazes were directed towards the lens. Eymen was embracing Bianka with one arm, and holding an umbrella in the other hand to protect them from the snow.

It was one of a few moments when they did not have to worry about work or their identity. They could feel like ordinary Snezhnayan residents, meeting after a hard day over a mug of mulled wine. Bianka had always tried to cherish and value these moments.

She didn’t know how long she had been looking at the photo. Tears of emotion and longing for what was lost were streaming down her cheeks. She ran her finger over her and Eymen's silhouettes one last time, then tucked the photograph into her coat’s inside pocket. She knew she would never part with it; she would always hold it close to her heart, just like the memory of her friends. The researcher leaned her head against the wall and stared at the white sky through the gap between the curtains, trying to clear her mind. She felt her fatigue grow stronger, so, having nothing better to do, she closed her eyes.

****

She was awakened by a knock on the door. A moment later, the coachman stuck his head inside.

“We've arrived at our destination, miss," he announced. “Don't worry about the luggage, it will be transferred to your room.”

Bianka straightened up and stretched, yawning widely. Looking through the window, she noticed that the brightness of the day had begun to give way to dusk, which always started early in this part of the world. She stepped outside and looked around curiously. The landscape has changed - the terrain was more mountainous, the trees were much denser and the mountains themselves had become closer. What surprised her, however, was the almost complete absence of buildings. There was no castle, palace or villa nearby, just a small, unremarkable wooden inn. Dottore, having got out of his own carriage, turned towards it without giving Bianka even a glance. The woman did not know whether she should follow him or wait for his orders.

The coachman resolved her doubts.

“Why are you still standing here, miss?” he asked with worry. “Go inside quickly or you'll catch a cold.”

“Yes, of course," she stuttered out in embarrassment before running after the Doctor.

The interior of the inn was warm and cosy. The oak planks creaked under her feet as she looked around. A fire crackled in the fireplace, illuminating the small room, while four elongated tables had been set up near it. On the walls hung several paintings depicting scenes from village life and mountain panoramas. Just by the counter, over which herbs were hung, was a staircase leading to the upper floor. Bianka noticed that far fewer people came to this inn than to the "Snow Boar". Apart from herself and the Second Harbinger, there was not a living soul in the room. Having examined the furniture, she noticed that it was unnaturally clean. She also hasn’t spotted any scratch marks on the floor from the frequent moving of the chairs.

Suddenly, someone grabbed her firmly by the arm. She shuddered in surprise, turned around and faced the Doctor.

“Your room is upstairs,” he said dryly, handing her the keys. “We will dine in two hours.”

Both the tone of his voice and his clenched jaws showed his displeasure. Bianka had the irresistible impression that Lord Dottore did not like her, despite the fact that he himself had chosen her as his assistant. She wanted to ask him about their final destination, but before she could even open her mouth, the man had already disappeared upstairs. The woman sighed, exasperated.

“Is that all you took with you?” the carter accosted her. He was surprised by the size of her luggage. Bianka nodded.

“That's right. I know it's not much, but it's all I have.”

“No harm done! Less work for me!” He winked at her impishly, then headed towards the stairs. Bianka rushed after him.

“What's your name?” she decided to ask. “How long have you been working for Lord Dottore?”

“I'm Fyodor,” he replied, “and I don't just transport the frightening Doctor, but all the regulars of the Zapolyarny Palace.” The coachman puffed out his chest proudly before continuing: “I was born not far from here, in the village named Silver Beach. I always dreamt of exploring a bit of the world, so as soon as I learned to ride a horse, I set off deep into the country. It wasn't easy at first, but eventually I collected enough Mora to buy a carriage. As you can probably guess, I didn't get to the palace right away. Initially, I transported the residents of the capital within the city. Then also to the surrounding villages and smaller towns. Later on, a certain man of means took an interest in me and I started working for him. Eventually I ended up in the Zapolyarny Palace and decided to stay there for good. But who knows where the road will take me tomorrow? That is a secret known only to the gods and the stars.”

Bianka was absorbed by the story. She listened with interest to the resourceful coachman until they reached the door of her temporary room. Fyodor looked at her expectantly; she remembered then that she had the key. With an embarrassed smile, she opened the door and together they entered the room. It was small and contained only a bed, a wardrobe standing next to it and a round table with two chairs. A second door led to a tiny, modest bathroom.

Fyodor put Bianka's backpack by the bed.

“I will leave you alone now, miss," he said. “I'll come for you when it's time for dinner.”

The woman smiled and thanked the carter, who, having winked at her, left the room. She sighed, took off her mask and looked around the room again. She decided not to unpack; after all, they would be setting off on their journey the next day. Instead, she pulled her favourite book out of her backpack, settled comfortably on the bed and immersed herself in the story.

****

It was already dark outside. Bianka followed Fyodor, who entertained her with another anecdote from his travels.

“…and when I drove out of the forest, the wolves were still chasing me!" he recounted, his eyes shining excitedly. “I rushed my horse, but, unfortunately, they were starting to catch up with me. I had to beat them over their heads with a whip to stop them from devouring us!”

“What happened next?” Bianka asked. “Did you kill them?”

“No, of course not. You don't kill wolves, they're too useful. On more than one occasion, I managed to cut a good chunk of meat from the prey they hunted. Ah, but it seems I must stop here; the master is already waiting for you.”

Indeed, Dottore was sitting with his arms folded at one of the tables, tapping his finger impatiently against his shoulder. Bianka left Fyodor, who had gone to dine with the other carter, and headed towards the Harbinger.

“At last, you came,” he grumbled as a greeting. “Another minute and I would have started looking for you myself.” Bianka wanted to defend herself, but the Doctor interrupted her. “Sit down and listen. I'm going to outline for you what our… cooperation is supposed to look like.”

He said this word with great reluctance, as if he was still wondering whether he had made the right decision. The woman obediently took her seat, waiting for Dottore's words. However, at that moment the innkeeper approached them.

“May I take your order, my lord?” he asked, his nervousness betrayed only by the slight trembling of his hands. Bianka wanted to reply that she had not yet managed to choose anything for herself, but Dottore was quicker.

“We’ll take dumplings with meat and a roasted trout, as well as a carafe of water with lemon," he said in an expressionless voice. “Have everything served at the same time.”

“Of course, my lord.” The owner left the table at once, visibly relieved. The Doctor focused his attention on her again.

“We work every day from seven am to four pm," he said. “You're only allowed in the lab when I'm there too, unless I say otherwise. When we get there, I will show you exactly which rooms you will have access to and where I do not allow you to be.”

“Sorry to interrupt, but what exactly is the destination of our journey, my lord?”

For the first time, something like a smile appeared on Dottore's face.

“Siniy Glaz, where my residence is located. Do you happen to know anything about this place?”

Bianka furrowed her eyebrows, trying to remember if she ever heard the name. The only thing she recalled was that the town was located somewhere in the mountains. She hadn't realised that a residence of one of the Harbingers was situated there.

“Not much, only little information,” she confessed.

“That’s good. The location of the Fatui's most important facilities is closely guarded. Apart from us, few people know where they are. Of course, you are not allowed to tell anyone about all of this. I trust that I don’t have to tell you what will happen if you break this rule…”

The woman nodded her head. She felt honoured at the thought of being entrusted with such important information.

“Naturally, I will not fail your trust, my lord,” she swore with complete conviction. Dottore did not comment, but Bianka sensed that he was satisfied with her answer.

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the innkeeper, who placed plates in front of them, from which wafted an enticing aroma. The man assured that he was at their disposal if the need arose, and then left.

“Help yourself," said Dottore, setting about eating himself. Bianka eagerly joined in. She tore off a large bite of fish and, just as she was about to savour its taste, she stopped, looking at the Doctor in utter bewilderment.

All the inhabitants of Snezhnaya knew how great a status the Harbingers enjoyed. They were the most powerful people in the country, representing the might of Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa. Until now, Bianka had thought that this function came with certain responsibilities. In addition to power and strong will, Harbingers should be characterised by impeccable manners and intuition in order to carry out the will of the Cryo Archon with dignity.

Apparently, Dottore had quite the opposite opinion on this matter. Bianka observed the man with confusion as he outright devoured the contents of the dish, stuffing his mouth to the limit and smacking loudly. After a moment, he realised that the woman had not touched her own meal. With an effort, he swallowed a large bite of food and glanced in her direction.

“Do you have any allergies or…?” he asked with a hint of uncertainty in his voice. Bianka quickly shook her head and returned to the roasted fish, trying with all her might to not pay attention to the sound of a burp coming from the opposite end of the table.

The trout was perfectly seasoned and almost melted in the mouth. The woman was completely devoted to isolating the bones from the supple meat, wondering again why there were so few guests at the inn. The tavern was well-kept, situated in a picturesque location, and there could be no complaints about the quality of the food. All this meant that it should be bursting at the seams. Meanwhile, apart from the two of them, there was not a living soul inside. Could it be that the local residents had heard about the Doctor's arrival earlier and, not wanting to get in his way, had decided to stay at their homes?

“Have you finished yet?” Bianka snapped back to reality, noticing that Dottore had managed to eat all the dumplings while she was immersed in her thoughts. Meanwhile, half of her fish still lay untouched. “Never mind, enough talk for today. You'll find out about the rest when we get there.” Without waiting for Bianka, the man got up from the table and dusted his coat off. “Tomorrow we wake up at six, have breakfast at six thirty and leave at seven. Try to be on time this time.”

The woman watched the Doctor walk away towards the stairs, not bothering with such a trivial matter as paying for the meal. Fortunately, the innkeeper did not seem outraged. Rather, Bianka was inclined to say that he was relieved when the Second Harbinger disappeared upstairs. She felt unexpected sympathy for the owner; she had spent only less than a day with Lord Dottore, and she already suspected that finding common ground with him would not be easy.

Having eaten all the fish, Bianka approached the innkeeper, who furrowed his brows with worry.

“Did something not live up to your expectations, my lady?” he asked, concerned. “If so, just say the word, in the future we will try to rectify our mistake.”

“No, no, everything's fine," she replied quickly. “I just wanted to say that the fish was delicious.”

“Oh, in that case I am most pleased.” The man visibly calmed down. “No wonder, the mountain streams are among the purest in the whole of Snezhnaya, so the fish are also of high quality.”

“That's interesting. If that's the case, the place should be packed to the brim with people. Where have all the guests gone?”

The man became nervous and looked away. Bianka was surprised to see fear in his eyes.

“It was the Beast’s doing," he confessed. “Ever since it appeared in this parts, people have been afraid to leave their homes.”

“The Beast?” Bianka asked curiously. “I have never heard of it before. What kind of creature is it?”

“No one can say for sure. All that is known is that it is big, fast and very strong. It’s able to burst through barn doors and slaughter half the animals before anyone realises what has actually happened.”

Bianka hummed. Most of Snezhnaya's fauna was large, but the animals tended to shy away from humans, choosing the vast ice deserts and dense forests for their home. There were occasional instances when a pack of wolves attacked a flock of sheep, however, these were rare. The woman was sure that even a dozen of those grey creatures would not be able to break down the thick and sturdy barn doors.

“I advise you not to wander alone at night and, if possible, not to leave the house at all. For your own safety.”

Bianka thanked for his advice, and headed towards the stairs. The upper floor was empty, Dottore had already managed to disappear into his assigned room, and she wasn't going to bother him. After entering her own abode, she quickly groomed herself, changed her clothes and, not hesitating any longer, jumped into bed, wrapping herself up to the tip of her nose. With a quiet sigh, she closed her eyes, wanting to gather energy to be ready for new challenges.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t meant for her to get any rest that night. In her sleep, she danced with Eymen once more in a tavern filled with singing and clapping people. After a while, however, her friend was replaced by the Doctor, who this time wore no mask. His eyes, which were boring into her, were round and wholly red, exactly the same as those of the mice on which she sometimes conducted tests herself. The man twirled Bianka to the rhythm of the music, and pulled her close.

“Remember not to be late,” he commanded in a serious voice.

“Of course, my lord,” she replied.

She was about to return to dancing when she heard a loud crash. Her eyes shot open and she jumped out of bed, looking around unseeingly. After a moment she remembered where she was. Another bang made her glance towards the window. She realised that it was a branch blown by the gusts of wind that had hit the glass, rousing her from her sleep. Reassured, she covered herself with the duvet again and gazed at the moon visible outside the window.

‘I wonder how Eymen and the others are doing,’ she mused. It had only been one day and she already missed her group of friends. She knew it would be a long time before she disaccustoms from their constant presence.

As she continued to bask in the soft moonlight, she felt her fatigue return. She was about to fall asleep when suddenly a shadow covered the window, plunging the room in complete darkness. It lasted only a fraction of a second, after which a soft glow returned to the room, but it was enough to alert her. The woman got out of bed and hurried to the window. Peeking into the courtyard, she caught a glimpse of something white disappearing among the trees.

‘Was that the Beast?’ she thought with fear. However, after a moment, she felt the unease being replaced by a feeling she knew well - an unbridled and unsated curiosity. Bianka couldn't resist its call, and that’s why a minute later she was creeping down the corridor as quietly as she could so as not to wake the other guests (especially, gods forbid, the Doctor). Descending the stairs, she froze with terror when one of the steps creaked loudly under her weight. For a moment, she listened for the sound of footsteps, indicating that her little escapade was about to end with a bang. Fortunately, no other sound disrupted the peaceful silence of the house engulfed in sleep. Bianka sighed in relief, then resumed her cautious stalking.

After stepping outside, she was hit by the frosty night air. She quickly looked around; luckily, nothing caught her attention. She pondered. The white shape she had spotted from the room was heading towards the forest, so it seemed logical to start her search there. Exercising caution, she entered the woods, stopping every now and then, trying to pick up even the quietest sounds, promising a quick death. At the same time, the woman admired the beauty of the dark forest. The snow, which had fallen during the day, covered the forest floor in a thick layer. Moonlight shone through the dense tree crowns, dispersing the darkness and illuminating her path. This, as well as the delicate snowflakes swirling in the air, gave the forest a fairytale-like appearance. The researcher breathed in the frosty air, feeling it fill her lungs and refresh her tired body. At that moment, she spotted the tracks of an animal in the snow. Curious, she bent down to try to recognise the forest dweller who might have left them.

It happened in a blink of an eye. Bianka felt her hair stand on end as she sensed someone's presence behind her. She tried to dodge, but it was too late. A strong blow hit the side of her head, stunning her. She fell to the ground. In her mind, she was already bidding farewell to the world. She had always known that her immeasurable curiosity would one day be her undoing. As the saying goes, curiosity killed the cat. Bianka sincerely hoped that, at least, her death will be quick and painless. Acquiescing to her fate, she lay in the snow calmly, but instead of sharp fangs clamping down on her throat or claws tearing at her insides, she heard someone's very disgruntled tut.

“What are you doing here? Have you been following me?”

Bianka dared to open one eye, immediately regretting her decision. Lord Dottore was leaning over her, a deep grimace of displeasure contorting his face. She realised then that the white phantom she had seen from the room's window was not the Beast, but her new master. Afraid to make any move, the woman stared at the Doctor's mask, which seemed to laugh at her foolishness.

“Has my blow stunned you so much that you’ve lost your tongue? Get up already and answer me!”

Bianka rose to her feet with all speed and shook off the snow that had stuck to her clothes. She looked at the Doctor and shuddered with fright. The man was downright pale with rage; the force of his fury was so great that the woman involuntarily took a few steps away. She had a suspicion that the Second Harbinger would be more than happy to do the killing for the Beast.

“What were you thinking, going out into the woods all alone in the middle of the night with that creature rampaging around?” growled Dottore. Bianka swallowed loudly.

“I was just…” she began uncertainly. “I wanted to find that Beast.”

“Oh, really? And then what? Pounce at it with your nails? Or maybe tickle her stomach?”

Suddenly, Bianka felt incredibly stupid. She had forgotten to decide what she would do once she had found the monster. She lowered her head in shame.

“Please forgive me, Lord Dottore,” she muttered with remorse. “I promise it won't happen again.”

The medic gripped her jaw tightly and looked her straight in the eye.

“Of course it will never happen again,” he lowered his voice, which made him sound even more sinister, “because if it did, I would commute your useless brain for a potato, maybe then you would have more sense.”

As ridiculous as this statement may have seemed, Bianka was not eager to laugh. She had a distinct feeling that the Doctor wasn't lying; from now on she had to pay attention to where she was walking.

“You are now my subordinate and you always have to tell me where are you going, when are you going and what are you planning to do,” he said, still not letting Bianka out of his grasp, “and you can only do that if you get my permission. Do you understand?”

The researcher felt a little indignant at the thought of being under such close supervision, but she has learned already that there was no fooling around with the Doctor.

“Yes, my lord, I understand,” she managed to choke out through squashed lips. Dottore finally let go of her face, grabbing her arm instead.

“I believe the Beast will not appear tonight. I haven't found any sign of it, it's possible it's not here at all. Let's get back to…”

Suddenly a quiet rustling resounded somewhere behind them and before Bianka had time to realise what was happening, the impact of her body hitting the ground squeezed all the air out of her. The Doctor was lying right next to her from which she deduced that he had knocked her down this time too. She did not yet know how grateful she would feel, for if it had not been for his alertness and reflex, she would most likely have lost her head. Something huge flew over their flattened bodies with a terrible roar, but before Bianka could get a closer look at the shape, the creature disappeared amidst the spruces again.

“We go back, now!” ordered Dottore, lifting Bianka to her feet. She tried with all her might to keep up with the man, but his steps were so fast that every few metres she stumbled on stones hidden under the snow.

“What was that?” she wheezed out. “Was it the Beast?”

“What else?” he retorted. “Of course it was the Beast! It must have been lured by our voices.” He abruptly turned his head towards the trees and increased the pace without a word.

A moment later, the conifers began to thin, only to disappear completely shortly after, revealing a panorama of the valley stretching to the horizon. Bianka drew in a few deep breaths to calm her frantically pounding heart and looked around. The darkened tavern was just a few metres away. Feeling hope rise within her, the woman allowed herself a sigh of relief. Suddenly, she felt blood freeze in her veins as she heard an angry growl and sensed an ominous presence behind her.

“Quick, run!” Dottore pushed her towards the building, protecting the rear himself. Bianka didn’t hesitate. She scuttered as fast as her untrained body would allow her. She heard the rumbling sound of something heavy hitting the ground. A moment later it was joined by a high-pitched screech, followed by a roar of pain and rage. She reached the tavern’s door, which, thank Archons, was still open, and rushed inside, Dottore right behind her. Before Bianka could recover from the shock, the medic pushed hard against the door. Not a second later the Beast smashed against it with full force. By some inexplicable miracle, the door did not shatter into thousand pieces, continuing to steadfastly defend the dwellers from certain death.

A deep silence ensued, interrupted only by their rasping breaths. Dottore risked a glance through the small glass pane, looking out for a shadow, lurking in the thickets. He observed the surroundings for a long time, but nothing caught his eye - the Beast was gone. Suddenly, a sound of quick footsteps reverberated in the depth of the room – an alarmed innkeeper appeared on the stairs with Fyodor treading on his heels.

“What was that rumble? It banged as if a giant snowball had hit us!” the owner shouted nervously. Recognising the Doctor's silhouette, he visibly tensed. “Do you know what caused that noise, my lord?”

Dottore snorted.

“It was nothing. Just my assistant who decided to go for a little walk and stir up the whole house in the process.” He cast her an accusatory glance. Bianka could not believe her ears. Is Dottore not going to mention anything about the Beast and put all blame on her?

“But it was the Bea…”

The man slapped her in the back of her head. The blow was gentle enough to not cause her pain, but Bianka understood the warning anyway.

“You still have the nerve to speak?” he growled, making her cower. “Apologise to everyone for disturbing the peace and go back to your room. I advise you not to stick your nose out of there until morning, do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord…” Bianka headed for the stairs, her head lowered with shame. As she passed the other men, she whispered a silent apology and quickened her pace to finally be alone. She still managed to hear the innkeeper’s worried voice.

“My lord, what about this bang…”

“I've already said it’s not important.” She recognised from his tone that the Doctor was still stuffy. “Or maybe you think you have the right to pry into the affairs of the Harbingers?”

“Absolutely not! I wouldn’t dare…”

Bianka slammed the door, shutting herself off from all sounds. She felt terrible. She hadn’t suspected that her innocent excursion would end in an encounter with an angry Doctor and an equally enraged Beast. She felt tears of shame and regret prick her eyes. There was nothing she wanted more than to return to her former life, where she could count on her friends and their support. Unfortunately, there was no turning back, the only way led forward, and no matter how ominous it seemed, Bianka had to follow it. With a sad sigh, she sank back onto the pillows and closed her tired eyes, falling into a restless sleep.

****

The breakfast was as delicious as the trout, but Bianka was too immersed in her thoughts to enjoy it. She was still trying to stomach the night's events and the words that had been spoken then. She was so absorbed that she didn’t notice Fyodor, who sat down next to her.

“Good morning, miss.” Bianka shuddered, pulled out of her thoughts. “Are you all right? It's been quite a night.”

“Fyodor! You scared me,” she replied with a smile. “Don't worry about me, I'm fine.”

“The Doctor can be really scary when something angers him,” he said. “What happened that night, if I may ask, that required the Harbinger’s intervention?”

Bianka felt her stomach tighten with stress. Something was telling her not to mention the Beast to Fyodor. A hunch bordering on certainty told her that Dottore would not be thrilled if she started spreading the word about the monster to everyone.

“Nothing significant happened,” she began. “I decided to go for a short walk to clear my thoughts a bit and I ran into Lord Dottore, or rather he ran into me.” She felt an incipient embarrassment, which she quickly stifled. “As you can probably guess, he was far from delighted to see me.”

It wasn't the whole truth, but it wasn't a lie either. The woman looked at Fyodor, who seemed satisfied with her answer.

“I wonder what the Doctor was looking for at this hour,” he fell into a pensive state, “but it's best not to dwell on it too much. The Harbingers are cunning beasts, and dangerous ones at that. It's impossible to guess what's going through their twisted heads.”

Bianka didn't like Dottore's comparison to a beast. After an eventful night, she felt she'd had enough of all creatures and other fiends for the rest of her life. Suddenly they heard quick footsteps on the stairs, and a moment later the Doctor’s silhouette appeared before their eyes. He was dressed in the same outfit, and his face was distorted by exactly the same grimace of displeasure as the previous day.

“Packed already?” He asked in greeting. Bianka nodded, at which Dottore turned to the other man. “Fyodor, take her luggage and pack it into the carriage, and you,” he looked back at Bianka, “wait outside and don't even think about taking another 'walk'.”

Not waiting for a reply, the Doctor left. Fyodor stretched and yawned mightily, then patted Bianka on the shoulder.

“Don't worry about anything, miss," he said. “I will see to it that all your belongings arrive safely at your new home. Don't mind Lord Dottore either, he always has such a nasty attitude.”

‘Comforting,’ she thought sourly, but immediately smoothed her furrowed brow. She thanked Fyodor and headed for the exit. Some snow had fallen during the night, which now covered the ground in an even layer, masking the footprints they had left a few hours earlier. The rays of sunlight that broke through the clouds fell on the frost, making it sparkle like diamonds. Bianka drew in the freezing morning air, which cleared her mind of gloomy thoughts. The carriages were already prepared for the journey, waiting only for the passengers and their belongings. The dray horses shifted impatiently and snorted, releasing puffs of steam into the air.

As she was observing the hustle, a breathless Fyodor emerged from the inn, laden with luggage, much of which were the Doctor's possessions. Compared to his crates and bags, Bianka's backpack looked like a joke.

“What is he keeping in that crate?” Bianka heard Fyodor’s mumbling. “Stones?”

Finally, with the help of the second coachman, the man managed to carry and attach all the luggage to the back of the carriage. The woman squinted in sympathy, hearing the loud crack of his back when he straightened. Fortunately, this did not spoil Fyodor's mood, who packed Bianka's backpack into the other vehicle with a cheerful expression on his face.

“Let's not tarry any longer.” Bianka cringed when she heard the Doctor's deep voice right next to her. She was surprised that someone of such sizeable stature as Il Dottore could move completely unnoticeably and silently. “We've got a couple of hours of travelling ahead of us. The sooner we leave, the sooner we can start work.”

Without looking back, the man disappeared in one of the carriages. Bianka followed suit, and after a while the wheels of the vehicles rattled on the gravel path. She waved goodbye to the owner of the inn, who was watching them leave, and sat down comfortably on the pelts. As they passed by the forest, she scanned the tree line, trying to spot the massive silhouette of the Beast. However, the tranquillity was not disturbed by even the faintest rustling of ferns or scrunching of the snow that might indicate the presence of a wild animal. The stillness seemed almost unnatural to Bianka. She stared into the wilderness until the last trees disappeared from her sight, giving way to a sweeping view of the valley. The carriage’s warmth and gentle swaying made Bianka's eyes close of their own accord. The woman wrapped herself in her fur and, leaning her head against the glass, fell into a light sleep.

****

When she next opened her eyes, she realised that she had napped for several hours. The sun had managed to change its position in the sky and was dousing the world with a delicate yellow glow. Most of the clouds had dissipated, revealing an orange sky. They were even higher than before.

‘We must have made it all the way to the mountains,’ Bianka realised, staring at the sharp ridges with delight. After another hour, the path became less steep and the horses slowed to a walk. A moment later, they stopped in front of an imposing gate made of black metal unknown to Bianka. Unused hinges screeched loudly, letting the travellers into the estate. The woman noticed with amazement that the gate opened automatically, without even a nod from the servants.

‘This is surely another one of Lord Dottore's ideas,’ she thought appreciatively.

Having passed the boundary of the estate, they found themselves among the trees again, growing more regularly, however, than in the memorable forest. Bianka felt excitement and curiosity bubbling up inside her. Her legs were itching to get out and start exploring the area. She wondered if the Doctor would give her free rein, or perhaps assign someone to show her around the area. Or would he tell her to get to work straight away? The woman understood that she could not expect the Second Harbinger to behave in a way that was considered “normal” by the rest of the society. He was far more eccentric and unpredictable.

Several more minutes passed before the carriages finally came to a halt, and Fyodor's smiling face appeared in the doorway of the vehicle.

“Welcome to your new home, miss," he said, extending his hand. “Siniy Glaz.”

After leaving the carriage, the researcher looked around fascinated. In front of her was a sizable, several-storey villa. Its walls were made of dark wood, bringing to mind the colour of the bark of nearby trees, while the roof was almost black. Only a few windows glimmered with a soft orange light, the rest were bathed in darkness. To the main entrance led a large porch, which had a small coffee table and two comfortable chairs. The roof above it allowed one to enjoy the fresh air even when it rained or when the sun was strong. Nevertheless, the whole place gave a disturbing impression. The dark windows, the lack of ornaments and plants as well as the colour scheme were reminiscent of an abandoned, haunted mansion. Bianka felt a shiver run down her spine. She turned her gaze away from the gloomy building and observed the rest of the surroundings. Everywhere she looked grew old spruce and fir trees, obscuring the view. There were several paths leading away from the residence, but it was impossible to make out where each of them ended. The last feature worth noting was an ancient-looking fountain built of white stone, which looked as though it had not been used for many months. A layer of dust lay at the bottom of the pool and the fixtures resembling fish and sea creatures were overgrown with moss.

Right next to her, Dottore was stretching his stiff from lack of movement muscles, while the carters were removing the luggage from the carriages and leading tired horses to the stables.

“At last we are here.” The Doctor sighed in relief, his shoulders slumping significantly. Bianka realised that even people as powerful and unemotional as the Harbingers were not immune to homesickness. At that moment, an elderly man with a very serious and dignified appearance came out of the villa and headed towards them. Dottore nodded in greeting, from which she recognised that he held certain respect for the man. So far the Doctor had not deigned to even look at some of the people they had encountered. “Rodion, it's been a long time since we've seen each other. How's the situation? Has anyone tried to disturb you?”

“Lord Dottore, welcome back.” Rodion bowed. “Nothing significant happened in your absence. It was quiet here as usual, and the townspeople stayed away. Was the journey enjoyable?”

“I have been better," replied Dottore. “Have the servants prepare a meal and a warm bath, I need to relax. And one more thing. This is… Hey, who gave you permission to go there?! Get back here right now!”

Bianka, who had started to follow Fyodor and his horses, hurriedly returned to the Doctor's side. He was standing with his arms folded and impatiently stomping his foot.

“I'm not going to let a stranger wander onto my property," he spitted angrily, then lowered his voice. “Have you already forgotten our conversation? Because I remember the potato very well. I'm sure there are plenty of them here, just waiting to be used.”

Bianka swallowed audibly. Dottore turned back to Rodion.

“This is Bianka Snezhevna, my new assistant. She will be… helping me with the experiments.” The man pronounced the word as if it was a personal insult. “The cottage by the river is exclusive to her. Send her something to eat, too.”

Rodion bowed, showing her respect. The researcher, not accustomed to such treatment, blushed and reciprocated the bow.

“It is an honour to meet you," said the butler. “Should you need anything, please do not hesitate to contact me. I hope that your cooperation with Lord Dottore will be pleasant and fruitful.”

Dottore snorted as if the very idea of "a pleasant and fruitful work" was absurd. Undeterred by his scepticism, Bianka thanked Rodion, who returned to the villa with the intention of finding other servants.

“Take your backpack and come with me. I'll show you where you'll stay.”

Bianka obeyed the Doctor's command and followed him down one of the paths. She was surprised that she would not be living in a villa, but would be given her own cottage.

“You probably thought you would be assigned a room in the mansion.” Dottore seemed to read her mind. Without waiting for her reply, he hummed. “Ha! The villa is for guests and their servants, and you are not a guest. Theoretically you could pass as a servant, but I don't think you could get along with the rest. There are several people accommodated in one room, whereas you are used to privacy. I am doing you a service by giving you this cottage. I'm sure you feel gratitude.” Dottore glanced at her from behind his back with anticipation painted on his face. Bianka immediately understood the subtext.

“Thank you, my lord, for your generosity,” she wheezed, trying to keep up with the Harbinger's long strides. “I am very grateful.”

The man muttered something under his breath and went silent. A few minutes later, they arrived at a small clearing, in which stood a simple forest hut. Time had not been kind to it - the wooden walls were beginning to rot, and the roof had been clearly patched several times already.

“This is the place,” declared Dottore. “You’ll need around ten minutes to get from here to the laboratory. Remember to arrive on time.”

“Yes, my lord.” Bianka wanted to make a good impression on the Doctor, and she would certainly not achieve that by being late on her first day in her new job.

“I'll leave you now, make yourself comfortable.” The man turned away and followed the path back to the residence. Before leaving, he said: “Tomorrow at seven sharp I will see you at the lab. To get there, follow the path to the left of the villa.”

A minute later Bianka was left alone. Excitedly, she approached the door of the cottage. The man had not handed her any keys, but it turned out that they were not needed. The door swung open with a slight creak, revealing the dark interior. Carefully crossing the threshold of her new home, the woman smelled a faint musty odour. She focused on a small table next to the entrance, on which stood several candles. She lit one of them and scanned the room with her eyes. She was in the living room, if she could call this small space that, equipped with a fireplace (not used for a long time) and two armchairs with peeling padding standing in front of it. In the depth of the room, she noticed a small kitchenette, next to which stood a rectangular table covered with a white tablecloth and two wooden chairs.

Bianka turned her attention to an unfamiliar device attached to the wall above the fireplace. She approached it and looked at it from all sides. The gadget was oblong in shape and looked as if it had been created from the remains of the Ruin Machines. The woman pressed a small button in the centre of the device, which flashed with an orange glow. Suddenly, the room filled with light. Above the kitchenette, in the corner by the fireplace and at the table, small lamps, that she had not noticed before, lit up. There were similar devices in the Main Research Institute and other research centres. They drew energy from the nearby Ley Lines and illuminated the chambers much more efficiently than candles or oil lamps. A gentle smile bloomed on Bianka's face when she thought that the Doctor enjoyed showing off his inventions. She happily blew out the candle and put it back on the table.

She now noticed that there were two other doors, leading to separate rooms. Opening one of them, Bianka found herself in a tiny bedroom. Here stood a single bed, a small bedside table, above which was the same illuminating device, a medium-sized chest (empty) and a wooden one-door wardrobe. The room was so small that it was impossible to take more than a few steps in it. The window, located just above the bed, was obscured by delicate lacy curtains. It showed a view of a nearby stream, meandering between the trees and disappearing into the distance. Bianka left her backpack on the bed and went to explore the last room.

Behind the second door was the bathroom. The researcher was surprised by its modernity and similarity to the one in the centre. It consisted of a shower where she could regulate the temperature and strength of the water jet, a toilet, a small washbasin, and right next to it the already familiar appliance and a few shelves. She took the opportunity to rinse her face and hands with the cold water, which refreshed her and washed away any residual fatigue from the journey.

Having returned to the main room, Bianka opened the window to get rid of the musty smell. That's when she spotted a young girl holding a tray with her dinner. She let her in and thanked her for the meal. The servant bowed and wished Bianka a peaceful night before leaving. At the sight of the cheese sandwiches with radish and the bowl full of fruits, the researcher felt how hungry she was. She threw herself into eating, and after only five minutes the only trace of her meal was an empty plate.

‘Now what?’ she wondered. It was still bright outside, about an hour before the sunset. Bianka was itching to go out and look around. ‘I'll just walk along the river,’ she decided. ‘I'm sure I'll make it before dark.’

It was pleasantly warm outside. She could already feel summer fast approaching - the only time when the snow melted and grass as well as field flowers blanketed the icy deserts. The woman wandered along the river, enjoying the quiet sloshing of its waves and the chirping of the birds. Her nostrils were filled with the scent of violets and lilies of the valley in bloom. Despite her difficult situation, she felt peace envelope her.

After a few minutes, the forest began to thin out; her attention was drawn to the glimmer of a sheet of water coming from behind the tree line. She headed in that direction, and in the next moment she found herself on a pebble beach surrounding a vast blue lake. Around the reservoir, snow-covered mountain peaks rose majestically. The beauty of this sanctuary took her breath away. She had never suspected that a Harbinger’s home could be located so picturesquely. Later, however, she realised that it was a wise move. If she didn't suspect that the Doctor himself might be hiding in this place, then others wouldn't be looking for him here either. This way, the residents could enjoy peace and quiet while still maintaining their anonymity.

After a moment of contemplation, Bianka took off her shoes and stood on the cold gravel. She sighed with delight when she felt the small pebbles massaging the soles of her feet. She couldn't remember the last time she had had the chance to spend a day surrounded by nature without thinking about the responsibilities that awaited her. She walked to the edge of the lake to dip her feet in the icy, crystalline water and gazed into space. It had been a long time since she had felt as light and at ease as she did at that moment.

The researcher spent the rest of the day by the lake, enjoying the sound of the waves and the last rays of the sun caressing her face. Eventually, however, dusk began to fall. Not wanting to get lost in the forest, Bianka decided to return home. She knew that if she mistook her route, stumbling instead upon one of the locals, Dottore would immediately be informed of her walk. She wasn't sure if she was allowed to wander away from the hut, so she wasn't going to risk his wrath. Fortunately, finding the stream was not difficult. Following its bank once again, she easily found the cottage hidden by rising darkness. She was pleased to find that an open window had managed to bring a breath of fresh air into the main room. Crossing the threshold of the bedroom, she felt the weariness caused by the long journey overwhelm her. The next day she had to get up first thing in the morning, so she decided that going to bed early wouldn't be a bad idea. She changed her clothes and plopped down on the surprisingly comfortable mattress. With a quiet sigh, she closed her eyes and, feeling slightly restless and curious at the same time, fell into sleep.

Chapter Text

Bianka furrowed her brows as she felt the sun rays caressing her closed eyelids. She opened her sleepy eyes and stretched, yawning mightily. She could still feel the arms of sleep holding her, and the comfortable bed was definitely not helping to rouse her. Gasping, she managed to turn onto her side. She glanced groggily at the circular clock standing on the bedside table. Suddenly her eyes became as big as saucers. The last remnants of sleep vanished like a blown-out candle flame, when she realised that she had exactly fourteen minutes to get up, get dressed, eat and stand ready for work in front of the lab doors.

“Shit!” she cursed, bolting out of bed. She was so dazed at first that she merely stood in the middle of the room and looked around wildly. ‘Get a grip, Bianka!’ she rebuked herself. Firstly, she threw herself at her backpack, which she had forgotten to unpack the previous day. She dumped the entire contents on the bed and started shuffling through it in search of suitable clothes. Finally, already groomed, she grabbed her lab coat and the mask which she put on over her face, then rushed out of the bedroom. To her surprise, breakfast was already waiting for her on the table. It seemed quite disturbing that servants could enter the cottage even without her knowledge, but there was no time to think about it now. Without a moment to lose, she grabbed whatever was on her plate (ending up with a toast with drawn butter and cheese) and ran out of the cottage, not bothering with such a trivial matter as closing the door behind her.

As she whistled by the old trees, Bianka thought that she had never moved so fast in her life. Her heart was pounding like a hammer (not just from exertion), and her lungs resembled blacksmith's bellows.  At the same time, she tried to swallow at least a few bites of toast - she definitely didn’t like the idea of working with an empty stomach. She almost burst into laughter when an absurd thought came to her mind that Lord Dottore was already awaiting her with a potato. However, her smile immediately disappeared when she thought that she could expect anything from the Doctor; even a hated potato.

After a few minutes of frantic running, the path ended and Bianka stood in front of the creepy villa.

‘Right, now to the left,’ she remembered the Harbinger's words, and headed in that direction. On the road she saw strolling and whistling cheerfully Fyodor who, having seen her, waved in greeting.

“Good morning, miss. It's a beautiful day today, isn't it?”

Bianka tried to reply, but all that came out of her mouth was unintelligible gibberish. The man scratched his head thoughtfully, watching the running researcher, who disappeared around a corner a second later. Finally, having concluded that scientists are truly strange creatures, he shrugged and resumed his interrupted walk.

Hope was beginning to grow in Bianka that, despite the adversities, she would still make it on time. Unfortunately, her luck was not in her favour, as she reached a fork in the road. She tried to remember if the Doctor had mentioned anything about it, but nothing came to her mind. Through a haze of fear, it dawned on her that the carters led their horses this way, so one of the paths must end at the stables. With no better idea, Bianka began to look at the ground. They were not real roads, just sand-covered forest tracks. The woman felt a surge of hope when she spotted the now slightly blurred hoofprints on one of them. Wishing that her hypothesis would come true, she took the other path.

After a minute, a low, but occupying a large area flat-roofed building appeared before her eyes. The researcher slowed down and, struggling to regain her breath, approached the heavy, metal doors. Tension began to build up in her again, so she sighed to calm herself down. She didn't know, if she should somehow announce her arrival. ‘You only die once,’ she thought, then pushed the door slightly, which opened without making a sound. She stepped uncertainly into the sparsely lit room and looked around. Leaning against one of the walls, she saw a figure hidden in the shadows which could only belong to the Doctor. She immediately bent down, showing remorse.

“I beg your pardon, my lord," she began. “While walking here, I lost my way, that's why...”

At that moment, her throat tightened in astonishment, preventing her from finishing her thought. While she was trying to justify her own tardiness, Dottore took a few unhurried steps forward. He stopped exactly in front of the researcher, in a patch of light coming through one of the windows. The man was not wearing the coat, which rested now on a nearby hanger, but only a slim, Prussian blue shirt and more black stripes encircling his torso. What shocked Bianka, however, was his face, this time unobstructed by his bird mask. Its right side did not stand out in any way, but the left one was entirely covered with scars and burn marks. The majority of scars was around his eye, which was permanently half-closed. The longest one stretched from his left temple to the upper lip, slightly deforming it. His eyes were an intense red colour, reminiscent of meadows covered with blooming poppies.

The Harbinger glanced at the watch strapped around his wrist and announced in an authoritative voice:

“You are exactly one minute and sixteen seconds late. The lost time must be made up for, so you will work one hour and sixteen minutes longer today.” Hearing this, the woman’s eyes popped. Dottore was unconcerned by her reaction and added: “This is what every day when you don't arrive on time will look like. If you are ever more than five minutes late, you will not be allowed to return to the hut for the night.”

After this revelation, Bianka opened her mouth to express her indignation, but a single look at the Doctor's angry stare told her that nothing would change his decision. Putting her pride aside, she bowed her head, vowing silently that she would always come fifteen minutes in advance.

“Of course, my lord...” she muttered.

“And let's stop with the whole 'my lord' thing. We'll be seeing each other for a couple of hours each day, so it's better to not make that time so cumbersome. In the lab you will address me as Doctor, in the others’ presence the old formula remains. Is that clear?”

“Yes… Doctor.” To tell the truth, Bianka didn't see much difference between these two titles, but it must have mattered to Dottore, so she didn't object.

“Great, if that’s settled, we can get to work.” Having said that, he walked off into the depths of the room. Bianka hurried after him, not wanting to get lost in a new (and most likely dangerous) place. The laboratory looked like a long corridor, with doors leading to adjacent rooms on one side and elongated tables on the other, with large windows built in between them every few metres. Along the way, she stared at the clean countertops, cluttered with all sorts of objects, from vials filled with coloured substances to gears, screws and cables from the Ruin Machines. There was also a chest here, with which Fyodor had struggled with the previous day. She saw now that the trunk was filled to the brim with spare parts and other metal objects.

She was so engrossed in her observations that she passed Dottore, who was waiting for her near one of the machines.

“Whoa, and where do you think you're going?” she heard his sharp reprimand. Embarrassed, she returned to the Doctor's side.

“I was just... I thought we were going to start working now, my lo- Doctor.”

“First of all, take off that mask. It's of no use to you here and will only restrict your field of vision. Leave it there.” The woman complied with the order, putting the accessory down on a nearby table, then focused on the Harbinger's words again. “Secondly, I have not yet told you to work. Until you are explicitly ordered to do so, you are to wait for my decision, and that applies to anything you can think of. Is that clear?” Bianka nodded her head. “Good. Thirdly, before we start working, I need to examine you.”

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a notebook and a pen appeared in Dottore's hands. Bianka had not expected any intervention in her body, so she felt completely unprepared.

“Examine me?” she repeated, not understanding anything. “But I am perfectly healthy.”

“My, my, don’t tell me you’re afraid of going to the doctor, Bianka.” Dottore glanced at her with a bored look. The researcher wasn't sure if she should answer this question, so she kept silent. “Let me be the one to assess your physical condition. Or rather this machine will do it.” He pointed at a device that looked like a hollow, vertical cylinder to which a panel with several buttons was connected. Bianka had never encountered a similar apparatus before, but this was not the first time (and certainly not the last) that the eccentric Doctor had surprised her with a technology unheard of anywhere else.

“Let us begin, then.” The medic opened the strange cabin’s door and pointed at it with a pen. “Strip down to your underwear and step inside.”

Suddenly, Bianka felt very uncomfortable at the thought of having to stand almost completely naked in front of one of the most dangerous people in Teyvat. Glancing at the device, she wondered if it was too late to flee the estate, enlist on a ship bound for Sumeru and hole up somewhere in its wilderness. Then, however, she looked at the Doctor; she realised instantly that she would not be able to take a single step before the man pushed her into the cabin himself, whether she wanted it or not.

“Doctor, could you tell at least what this machine does?” she asked, taking off layers of clothes at the same time. Seeing this, Dottore turned to the panel and pressed a few buttons, making the capsule glow with blue light.

“This scanner analyses the flow of elemental energy through the patient's body, picking up any disturbances caused by a tumour or blood clot, for example. This allows me to determine efficiently and with a high degree of accuracy whether you are ill, even if there are no obvious symptoms, and to apply the appropriate treatment if necessary. Of course, I could ascertain this using traditional methods, however, I would prefer to avoid this due to the time-consuming nature.” Dottore threw Bianka a condescending look. “Did this answer manage to satisfy your curiosity?”

“Wow, that's really amazing,” she replied undaunted. “This device could revolutionise medicine and help many patients who are diagnosed too late. Did you invent it yourself?” Bianka looked deeply into the Doctor's eyes. This time it was he who experienced embarrassment, feeling the intensity of her delighted gaze. Rarely had anyone listened to his achievements with such interest. For a moment, he did not know how to answer. However, his gaze quickly hardened and he growled:

“I don't care about other people's problems and suffering. My creations are intended solely for my use and I have no intention of changing that.” He took a deep breath to contain his anger. “Enough of this chitter-chatter, we've already wasted too much time. Step inside.”

Surprised by the fierce reply, the researcher stood motionless for a moment. Not wishing to anger the irritated Harbinger, she quickly snapped out of her stupor and stepped into the capsule. The door slammed shut behind her with a quiet hiss; when she tried to open it, she found that it was locked. Dottore turned back to the panel and, after pressing a button, the capsule began to buzz ominously.

“The examination will take about ten minutes,” she could hear the Doctor's voice. “During this time, try to relax and not make any sudden movements.”

Having said that, Dottore moved away into the depths of the laboratory, leaving her alone. An unpleasant thought crossed Bianka's mind that the Doctor had after all tricked her, she was just about to lose consciousness due to hypoxia, and that the Harbinger would come into possession of a new research object which he would use to carry out inhuman experiments. To her relief, nothing terrible happened and her mind remained as sharp as ever. She looked curiously around the interior of the cabin and the part of the laboratory that was visible. Exactly ten minutes later, the machine emitted a high-pitched beep, indicating that the examination was complete. A moment later, Dottore reappeared in her field of view carrying a rectangular case in his hand.

“Alright, let's see if my machine has detected any abnormalities.” The man pressed another button. The door opened, letting Bianka out. “Get dressed and wait here until I've reviewed the results.”

The woman didn't wait long. After a minute, the Doctor grunted and switched off the device.

“The scanner didn’t show any abnormalities; it looks like you are healthy," he gave the verdict in a rather disappointed voice. Bianka guessed with indignation, but at the same time a hint of amusement, that Dottore would have been more pleased, if the results had not been so successful.

“Does that mean we're going to start work now?” she asked, putting on her blouse.

“Not so fast,” he hissed irritably. “There's one more thing left to do. I need to draw your blood.”

Bianka felt the aforementioned blood freeze in her veins. Indeed, Dottore opened a small case, which turned out to be a modified first aid kit. Inside was a full medical arsenal: bandages, gauze, disinfectant, disposable gloves, and a syringe along with a needle, at the sight of which the researcher felt her knees go weak.

“Didn't you just say I was healthy, Doctor?” she muttered weakly. “So why more tests?”

“My scanner only detects abnormalities related to the structure or metabolism of an organism,” Dottore explained, fixing the needle on the syringe. ”It will not pick up differences in vitamin concentrations, micro- or macroelements or the presence of pathogenic microbes. A blood test will take care of that.” The man turned towards her. “Let's get this over with. Sit down on that chair over there and roll up your sleeve.”

“No!” The determination in Bianka's voice surprised even her. The doctor stared dumbfoundedly at the woman, whose muscles were as tense as a string. Sensing what was about to happen, the man squinted and reached rapidly towards Bianka, but she was quicker. With an agility worthy of a wildcat, she evaded the Doctor's grasp and darted towards the door, not caring a hoot that she had stood up to one of the Eleven Harbingers.

“Stop right now!” The force of Dottore's authority was so great that Bianka almost obeyed him, but fear prevailed. She heard right behind her the stomping of ironshod boots, preceded by a loud curse. Disregarding all sounds, the woman reached towards the handle, but at the same time the Doctor pushed against the door with his whole body.

“No way, you're not getting away from me,” he hissed, turning the lock. He tried again to grab Bianka, but this time as well the woman managed to dodge and run deeper into the lab. Thinking frantically, she dashed towards the windows, wishing that at least one of them wasn't blocked. Having run up to the first one, she grabbed the handle and pulled hard, but the sash did not budge. If she had looked at the Doctor now, she would have seen his grimace of anger and annoyance turn into one of derision and amusement.

“I would look for a better solution if I were you," he wheezed. The merriment present in his voice made Bianka stop and regard him with a suspicious glance. “These windows are permanently closed, they can only be cracked open. You won’t be able to squeeze through them unless you can turn into a ferret.”

Suddenly, the man leapt at Bianka, who, having no better idea, ran further down the corridor. As she contemplated her next step, she felt the Harbinger slowly catch up to her. If she didn't do something immediately, the man would get his hands on her and... No, she wasn't going to think about it. Trying to buy herself some time, she pushed one of the chairs standing by the desk directly in front of the Doctor. He didn't manage to dodge; he crushed into it and flew into the air, but instead of falling flat on the floor, he tucked his head between his shoulders, rolled over and, using the momentum, got back on his feet.

“Pretty good," he admitted, "but I'm not going to be beaten by a piece of wood. Think some more!” he exclaimed, and continued the chase with a wild, ominous laugh.

‘I think I finally understand how Lord Dottore acquired his reputation as a madman,’ a thought crossed her mind. With growing trepidation, she reached the door located at the end of the corridor and opened it sharply. A few steps behind her, Dottore was still giggling the way children playing tag would. ‘At least one of us is having fun,’ she thought bitterly, looking around the unfamiliar room. It occupied about the same area as the corridor, but the square shape gave it a sense of spaciousness. An operating table was set up in the very centre, from which leather straps dangled dolefully (why the Doctor needed a table with straps in such a place, Bianka didn't want to know). Around it stood a large lamp and two trolleys on which surgical instruments were arranged.

The woman noticed with frustration that the only door leading to other rooms was the one she had just run through. Already feeling the mad Doctor’s panting on the back of her neck, she dashed towards the only object that caught her eye - the operating table. She circled it, eager to put any barrier between her and the Harbinger, who caught up to the opposite edge of the tabletop. Noticing her hopeless position, he cackled mockingly.

“I wonder what will you come up with now," he teased, and started circling the table, only to change direction the next second, further confusing already tired and anxious Bianka. Despite her fear, the woman was still trying to think of a way out of this stalemate.

‘If I managed to swap our places, I would be closer to the door again,’ she mused. "I would have time to run and close them before the Doctor caught me. Maybe that way I will manage to escape."

With renewed determination, Bianka looked straight into Dottore’s sparkling eyes. His face twisted in a wide, maniacal grin. He threw himself around the table, at which Bianka ran in the opposite direction. Now in her new position, the door was behind her back. Feeling a surge of hope, the woman rushed towards them. However, she did not appreciate the intelligence of the Doctor, who had anticipated this move. Instead of circling the table again, the medic leapt over the tabletop and landed on the other side, immediately reducing the distance separating them. Bianka tried to run even faster but, not being in good shape, tripped over her own feet. She took a few long strides, which saved her from falling, but a moment's inattention was enough for the Doctor to grab her arm with a triumphant, "Got you!" The woman was unable to stop the terrified squeal that broke from her lips.

“No, let me go!” she shouted, struggling fiercely. The Harbinger pulled her close and locked in an iron grip. Being so close, she could smell mint, resin and chemicals coming from him.

“Shh, shh, it's ok," he tried to calm her. “Stop struggling, you'll only get tired.”

Nevertheless, Bianka did not give up. She kept trying to break free as the medic dragged her towards the table and laid her down on the cold tabletop. She was so desperate that she started to crawl to its edge. With years of experience behind him, Dottore efficiently immobilised her legs, torso and even head with straps. Restrained in this way, Bianka could only tussle helplessly from side to side.

“Well, well, well, I wouldn’t have thought that a person with such education and experience as you would suffer from such a strong trypanophobia," he sneered without even a hint of fatigue, and pulled out a syringe which, by some miracle, had not suffered any damage during the mad chase. With a satisfied expression on his face, he lifted the sleeve of her shirt, assessing the site of injection. “I don't understand what you are so afraid of. Your cephalic vein is large and clearly visible; even a fool would discern it, and I assure you that I am very far from people of that ilk.”

Dottore cleaned the skin with spirit, and directed the needle into the right place. Bianka screamed more out of fear than pain when she felt the sharp end pierce her flesh. She thought she was about to lose consciousness when black spots started to obscure her vision.

“Don't faint, I'm not allowing you to,” the Doctor ordered, patting Bianka on the cheek. “We don't have time for this.”

The woman felt her fear and anxiety turn to fury. This homebred quack had the nerve to chase her all over the lab, subject her to treatments without her consent, and now to top it all he wouldn't let her do the only thing that could bring her some peace! Angrily, she jerked in her prison and tried to bite the medic's hand that had been resting on her face the whole time. The clatter of teeth clenching on the air carried across the room, accompanied by Dottore's chuckle.

“Really, Bianka, you surprise me,” he admitted. “So calm and acquiescent, yet you can show your fangs. As they say, still waters run deep, right?”

Bianka expressed her opinion with angry hisses and banging her fist on the table. The Doctor didn't pay the slightest attention to her; he applied a band-aid to the injection site to stop the bleeding, then poured the dark red blood into a tube and mixed it. All the while, Bianka was giving him the evils.

“I see that your anger is not diminishing," he remarked. “However, I advise you to tame your negative emotions. Otherwise, I will have to... help you calm down. I have a feeling that you would not be able to fully appreciate it.”

At his words, a shudder ran through the woman's body. In the Doctor’s dictionary “help” most likely meant a sedative, which in turn meant more needles, and she didn't fancy that in the slightest. She closed her eyes, breathed deeply and relaxed her tense muscles. ‘I’m an oasis of calm,’ she began reciting a mantra. ‘A tranquil lotus flower on a serene surface of the lake.’

“That's better,” she heard the Harbinger's annoying voice. “Now I'm going to unfasten the straps, and you will rise calmly and come with me so I can show you where you're going to work, okay?”

Bianka knew it was a rhetorical question; in reality, she didn't have any choice. She nodded and a moment later felt the straps loosen. With a sigh of relief, she sat and stretched her body, sore from exertion. Dottore, unusually, did not try to rush her.

“Great," he said when Bianka stood up begrudgingly, waiting for further instructions. “Now we will finally get down to work.”

Holding the blood-filled vial, he returned to the main room with a still angry Bianka treading on his heels.

“As you must have noticed by now during your pathetic escape attempt,” Bianka gritted her teeth, “there are several pairs of doors leading off from this corridor. The second one houses your laboratory. When I don't need your assistance, you can work on your own experiments.”

“What about the other rooms?” she asked. “Am I allowed to enter them?”

“You can check them in your free time. I only don't allow you to open the last door. Behind it is my study; there is nothing there that could interest you.”

Bianka was of a different opinion, but she wasn't about to defy the Doctor’s orders. She knew that snooping around in his private office was like asking for death. She nodded as a sign that she understood.

“Great, then go to your new workroom,” added Dottore as he left. “You should find everything you might need there.”

The man walked away to the oblong tables, losing all interest in her. The researcher snorted with indignation, then headed for the indicated place. The room wasn’t large, but it was spacious enough to move around in freely. On each wall were several shelves filled with jars, beakers and other receptacles holding various substances, some of which were very rare and difficult to prepare. Bianka was already thinking about how she could use them in her latest ideas. She put on her lab coat, took out the notebook she always carried in one of her pockets, took the reagents she was interested in off the shelves and set about creating a new potion.

****

For several hours, during which the researcher measured reagents, calculated concentrations and mixed liquids, Lord Dottore did not summon her even once. In fact, no sounds came from the corridor indicating anyone's presence. Bianka didn't mind; she'd had enough of the Doctor for one day. After a while, however, a loud rumbling in her stomach prompted her to leave her (relatively) safe corner and look for something to eat. She scanned the empty corridor, but didn’t see anywhere Dottore’s tall silhouette.

“I've got your test results.” Bianka jumped up in fear, hearing the Harbinger's deep voice. The man materialised just behind her back. The researcher did not like the sneer which appeared on his face.

“With all due respect, could you somehow alert about your presence, Doctor? I'd rather live a few more years before I die of a heart attack,” she scolded him.

“All the parameters turned out to be within the norm.” Dottore pretended not to have heard her. “You seem to be in a surprisingly good shape.”

Bianka furrowed her brows. All the staff at her former centre underwent periodic examinations and the results were recorded in a file. She was sure the Doctor knew this, but decided to take matters into his own hands anyway. She was already about to throw in some incisive riposte when her stomach loudly reminded her of its presence. The man hummed with amusement and glanced at the clock hanging on the wall.

“Yes, I think it's high time to grab a bite to eat.” That said, he walked over to a panel by one of the tables that Bianka hadn't noticed before, pressed a button and muttered a few words, then turned back to her. “I'm in a good mood today, so we'll eat together. Sit down at that table.”

Bianka obeyed the command, and after a while she was joined by Dottore and a young man carrying their meal. Every now and then the boy glanced at the Doctor with distrust painted on his face. Having placed the plate on the table, he quickly left the laboratory.

“Just look at him, running away with his tail tucked between his legs," the medic snorted, before sitting at the table. “He probably thought I was about to pounce on him to devour his heart, brain or other liver.”

Bianka pondered. Customers of the “Snow Boar” had also mentioned the Harbinger's alleged cannibalism. She was curious to see how far the rumour had spread.

“I think that his reaction was not so exaggerated. I have met people who, at the mere sound of the name of one of the Harbingers, cowered in fear. After all, you are in possession of immense power and authority, Doctor.”

Dottore stroked his chin, staring at Bianka pensively.

“What you say is true. However, in that case, why are you not afraid, leaving aside the situation with the needle? You are sitting in front of the Second Harbinger, who could kill you in a blink of an eye, and yet you haven’t even stammered so far. I wonder where this bravery of yours comes from.”

Bianka wasn't quite sure herself. Although she knew how dangerous Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa's warriors were, she didn't feel threatened in the presence of the Doctor. Rather, she was intrigued by what tomorrow would bring.

“If I'm to be completely honest, I can’t answer that question,” she admitted. “It’s possible that it is my undying curiosity that dulls all anxiety.”

The man hummed thoughtfully, looking at the researcher with a strange gleam in his eyes.

“Curiosity you say... Interesting, very interesting,” he muttered, before grunting and straightening up. “We'll finish this conversation another time. Now let's get on with the food.”

The shared meal passed without any disturbances. Just like last time, Dottore outright swallowed the food, while Bianka tried strenuously not to pay attention. The food was tasty; she decided to praise the local chef’s cooking if she ever met him.

Having finished her meal, Bianka returned to her workroom. The Doctor did not require her assistance this time either. It was quiet for a while, but after a few hours, while writing down the results of one of the experiments, she heard unfamiliar hisses, squeaks and a scrape of moving gears.

‘Apparently Lord Dottore has finally decided to get to work,’ she smiled in thought. At first, the noises made by the machine did not bother her. However, after a few minutes, Bianka noticed that the temperature in the laboratory began to rise. In a very short time, the room became so hot that she found it difficult to breathe. For some unknown reason, there were no windows in her small workroom, so she was unable to air it. Groaning from exertion, she went out into the corridor to assess the situation. Unfortunately, similar conditions prevailed here as well. The Doctor disappeared somewhere again; the only sign of his presence was the sound of quiet bustling coming from the next room. Wiping the sweat from her forehead the researcher went to the nearest window and opened it, letting a breath of fresh air into the building. She felt unimaginable relief when a cool breeze caressed her face. Bianka managed to open two more windows before she was interrupted by an exasperated shout.

“Hey, who gave you permission to do that!”

Confused, Bianka turned towards the Doctor. The man stood with his arms folded, measuring her with a stern look. She was not prepared for this sudden change of mood.

“Nobody, Doctor,” she replied in surprise. “It's just that it got very stuffy, so I thought I'd ventilate a bit here.”

“I don't remember giving you that order.”

“That’s true," she conceded. The next moment her gaze hardened. “However, I don't recall you forbidding it either.”

For a split second, Dottore's eyes widened in astonishment. This insolent chicken had only been here a day, and she already dared to talk back and disobey his orders. The medic narrowed his eyes and took a few steps closer to tower over Bianka. The woman tried to move away, but quickly hit her back against the wall. Her hardy gaze became less certain. ‘You're finally starting to fear me,' he thought with satisfaction. ‘Good. The sooner you learn of your place, the better for you.’ On the other hand, he had to admit that her courage impressed him a little. Nevertheless, he had to show her who was in charge here.

“Be careful,” he muttered ominously. “You're lucky I'm in a good mood today, otherwise I wouldn't have been so magnanimous, and you wouldn't have escaped punishment.” Satisfied by her wary gaze, the man straightened up. His gaze softened again. “This device needs relatively constant environmental conditions to function properly. Any external influences are absolutely inadvisable, so close this window and get back to your room," he ordered calmly but firmly. Knowing when it was safe to dispute and when it was better to refrain from doing so, Bianka obeyed his words, all the while feeling the Doctor's gaze on her. Resignedly, she returned to her mysterious potions and concoctions, praying for peace and strength to not go mad.

****

A gentle breeze ruffled Bianka's hair as she sat on a flat boulder on the beach and analysed the first day of her new job. She found it quite... interesting. She wasn't entirely happy with it, but she knew it could have gone much worse. Apart from a few clashes, the rest of the day passed peacefully. Lord Dottore didn't ask her for help, instead he kept his promise and didn't let her out of the lab until she had made up for the lost time. After wishing the Doctor a good night (his response was only a non-committal grunt), Bianka returned to the cottage to leave her things and headed for the beach. She figured that, despite the beautiful views, a pretty high status (not everyone could enjoy the title of the Harbinger’s assistant) and the chance to work alongside a genius, she was going to lead a pretty lonely life. Back at the old centre, she would surely be spending time with her friends now, meanwhile here she had a surly scientist who had a few screws loose and the sound of waves as her only company. Who knows, maybe she'll make friends with one of the servants? Or maybe Lord Dottore will take her on a mission to a distant land one day? Only time will tell.

After stretching, the researcher walked to the shore and stepped into the freezing water with her bare feet. For an unaccustomed person, the cold would have been downright painful, but Bianka had grown up playing in the snow since she was a child, so the frost was not an obstacle for her. She sighed blissfully and gazed at the blue surface. Once upon a time, when she was still very young, her guardian and a taciturn sailor had taken her as well as several other children on a boat trip on a nearby river as a reward for good behaviour. She still remembered the quiet sloshing of the waves crashing against the side and the distant cries of the seagulls. While the other children excitedly ran from one end of the boat to the other to remember as many sights as possible, she leaned against the railing, and watched the slowly flowing current until the gentle motion of the boat lulled her to sleep. She smiled softly; she had always been on the calmer side.

Bianka thought about repeating the memory, this time without anyone's supervision. She looked along the shore, but saw nothing that would enable her to swim up to the middle of the lake. With resignation, she dried her feet and headed towards the forest when she hit something hidden under the gravel. She hissed in pain, spitted angrily, and leaned over the source of her momentary suffering. Shifting the small pebbles, a long and sturdy plank appeared before her eyes.

‘So there used to be boats here after all,’ she thought. ‘A pity only so much remained of them.’

She left the plank and went to get her things to return to the hut for the night, when an unusual thought popped into her head. What if... She looked thoughtfully at the lone plank, analysing the idea. She would need a lot more than that if she wanted it to succeed.

Forgetting her things, Bianka returned to the shore and began to shuffle her feet through the gravel. It took her the rest of the evening to scour the beach for other planks. Two hours of careful looking resulted in four other boards, two of which proved sturdy enough to support her weight. ‘Still not enough,’ she thought in exasperation. The sun had already managed to hide behind the horizon, so further searching would be pointless. After stacking the acquired planks in one place and picking up her belongings, the woman started on her way back to the hut, deciding to return to the lake another day. The corners of her mouth lifted in a smile. Perhaps her stay at the Second Harbinger's estate would not turn out to be as boring as she might have thought after all.

Chapter Text

“DAMN IT!”

Bianka sighed. During the first week of her new job, she'd managed to learn that it was hard to truly aggravate Lord Dottore. In fact, she couldn't recall ever hearing him shouting with such passion, so she decided to act with extreme caution. Very slowly, she poked her head out from behind the door of her workroom to assess the situation. The Doctor, still cursing under his breath, was standing at the nearest table and vigorously rubbing his eyes. A broken vial lay on the floor in front of him, with clouds of white smoke escaping from it. It didn't take Bianka long to put two and two together. With a slight smile, she approached the angry Harbinger.

“Doctor?” she announced her arrival. Dottore tried to open his aching eyes, but without much success. Bianka squirmed in sympathy as she noted his irritated whites, which had become almost as red as his irises.

“Take the cloth that's on the table, wet it and bring it back,” he choked out through clenched teeth. Bianka went to fulfil the order. A moment later, the man put the damp cloth to his eyes, not heeding the stray drops of water running down his face and neck. Meanwhile, the researcher bent down to clean up the broken glass, but the Doctor's hand stopped her.

“I'll take care of it,” he said, looking at the mess through squinted eyes. “Go back to your room.”

“There’s no need. I can clea…”

The grip on her shoulder became stronger.

“I can handle it myself,” he said in a firm voice. “Now go away and don't make me repeat myself.”

With evident displeasure, Bianka returned to her workroom. It was not the first such situation. Every time she tried to help the Doctor - hold the test tubes, record the results of an experiment or even pass an instrument - she was met with a stern refusal. It looked as if Lord Dottore had made a mistake in taking her along, but his pride wouldn’t allow him to admit it. This frustrated Bianka immensely. If all this fuss about an imminent departure, a tiring journey and a change of job was just to keep her isolated here, with the stubborn donkey that was Lord Dottore as her only companion in misery, then she might’ve as well been torn to pieces by the Beast of the Forest.

The eccentric Doctor was still an enigma to her. His mood and emotions were wholly unpredictable. One day he could be overwhelmingly talkative, telling her about his ideas and experiments, and the next he would lock himself in his study for the whole day, leaving only a few times, spreading an aura of anger and despondency in the process. Bianka also noticed that the Harbinger often ‘stuttered’, which manifested in a sudden abandonment of his current activity, complete stillness and an absent stare. She never dared to ask him about these episodes. She could only guess what was going on in his head at the time.

A few hours later, during a lunch break, Dottore continued to pretend that Bianka was just an error in the spacetime. The woman was surprised that he had agreed to eat together at all, given his nasty mood. She was unsure whether she should speak up or rather hold her tongue and get on with the eating. She decided to try her luck.

“Doctor," she started, "I was wondering if you knew where I could get a picture frame.”

Bianka thought about the gifts from her friends every day. In the last few days, she had managed to unpack and start giving the cottage a unique atmosphere, thus sealing the biggest change of her life. The dragon figurine from Tatiana stood proudly on the bedside table in her bedroom, Kiang's pen rested safely in the pocket of her overall, the wine from Wilhelm waited for the perfect opportunity in one of the kitchen drawers, and Eymen's necklace adorned her neckline from the moment she woke up until the dead of night. What she didn't know was what to do with the photo. Initially, she wanted to hang it in a visible place, but was afraid it might get accidentally damaged. Framing it seemed like the best idea.

The Doctor stopped chewing and, for the first time since the beginning of the day, graced Bianka with a bored look. His eyes no longer resembled lakes of blood.

“A frame, you say?” the medic mused. “Maybe some servant would have an extra one and be willing to give it to you. Alternatively, some shop in town should sell them.”

At these words, Bianka raised her head from her plate.

“There is a town in the area?” she asked curiously. Dottore scoffed.

“Truly, Bianka, your ignorance surprises me. Where did you think we get food or hygiene products from? That we produce them ourselves?” he mocked her. Bianka didn't care; she was already used to the Doctor's insults. Without a word, she waited for an explanation. The man measured her with his gaze for a moment, then continued: “Yes, about an hour's drive from here, there is not so much a town, but rather a village. In spite of its small size and sparse population, it is enough to satisfy the needs of the estate's inhabitants.”

Bianka beamed.

“Great!” she exclaimed. “In that case, I will go there as soon as possible and...”

“Not a chance.”

The woman blinked and looked at Dottore in surprise.

“What?” she asked, unsure if she had heard the Doctor's words correctly. His gaze hardened.

“I said that it's not an option, you are not allowed to go into the city,” he said sharply. “Don't make me repeat myself again, you know I don't like it.”

“But why can't I go?!”

“Don't shout, you won’t change my mind with a mere whine," he growled. “The townspeople are convinced that the villa is inhabited by an old count who has decided to spend the rest of his life surrounded by mountain scenery. The servants don't surprise them, but if a young girl started parading on the village streets, questions would arise.”

The Harbinger's warning tone should have shut Bianka's mouth. However, the woman was too surprised by the absurdity of this conversation to pay attention to it.

“There shouldn't be a problem with that,” she assured him. “I can always say that I’m a new maid and have come to do some errands…”

“Enough!”

Bianka's eyes widened in shock. She stared at the Doctor, who was beginning to downright boil with rage. The man got up from the table and stalked towards the frightened researcher, almost touching her forehead.

“I am sick and tired of your mouthing off and insubordination," he muttered ominously. “I’m reminding you that I am in charge here and it is your job to obey orders without blinking an eye. If you ever try to question my decisions again, you will end up on the operating table faster than you can say ‘Siniy Glaz’, is that clear?”

Out of fear, Bianka was unable to get a single word out. Instead of answering, she stared into the Doctor's scarlet eyes, filled with hatred and fury. Having lost the last remnants of his patience, the Harbinger banged his hand on the table, snapping Bianka out of her trance.

“IS THAT CLEAR?!”

“Yes, Doctor!”

“Excellent,” he hummed, “now get out of my sight.”

Bianka rose as quickly as she could and, without a word, fled into the workroom. Having closed the door behind her, she released her breath. She knew she had to occupy her thoughts with something, lest she goes mad. The woman started looking through the reagents on the shelves to decide what poison to create this time, but she still saw the Harbinger's hateful gaze wherever she looked. She abandoned her original plan when she read the same label for the third time, having understood absolutely nothing. Instead, she sat down at her desk and began scribbling on a free sheet of paper while analysing their argument.

By the end of the day, she hadn't managed to advance even a millimetre in her work. As soon as the clock struck four, she left the laboratory as quietly as possible, trying not to draw attention to herself. She didn't have the energy for more interaction that day. All she dreamt of was to hole up in her bedroom and escape the cruelty of this world. As she walked along the track towards the hut, tears flowed from her eyes, leaving a wet path in the sand.

****

For the next few days, Dottore and Bianka hardly exchanged a word. Immediately upon arriving at the laboratory, the woman locked herself in the workroom, leaving only to relieve herself. They ate their lunches separately. Finally, however, in a rare moment when she left the safe haven of her lab, she vaguely glanced at the Doctor, who was sitting at one of the tables. The man didn’t look well. His hair was tousled and his eyes, which he wiped every few seconds, were bloodshot. He also seemed to be sitting more hunched than usual. Everything indicated that the mighty Second Harbinger was on the verge of exhaustion. Only now did she realise that she had never seen him take even a minute to rest. Whenever she came to the lab, Dottore was already there, and whenever she left it, he stayed inside.

‘Does he even leave for the night?’ she began to wonder. She was in a dilemma. On one hand, she felt like leaving the Doctor on his own and minding her own business, however, a part of her mind could not watch the medic work himself up to the limit. Swallowing, she cautiously approached the man's huddled figure. As she got closer, she heard a quiet mumbling.

“Twenty-seven... no, eight. Or maybe twenty-five?”

Unsure of what she was going to do, Bianka reached out and patted him lightly on his shoulder. The Doctor jumped up and looked at her with confusion.

“What? What's going on?” he muttered absently. The woman took a breath and replied calmly:

“Doctor, you look very tired. Maybe you should take a break for a while.”

Dottore shook his head violently.

“No need for that,” he stuttered out. “I have everythin’ under control.”

The man tried to lean against the table, but was so weak that he slid, miraculously avoiding hitting his head on the tabletop.

“Doctor!” she exclaimed concernedly, supporting the wobbling medic. He tried to push her away, but only had enough strength to squeeze her shoulder.

“'m fine," he assured her. Bianka only shook her head.

“You are barely conscious. Take a little nap, I'm sure it will be good for your health. I can take care of the experiment in the meantime.”

Dottore measured her with a long, inscrutable gaze. He glanced at the tabletop before shifting his eyes back to her a moment later. The woman could see that he was still not convinced. She sighed with resignation.

“Of course, I can't force you to do that. If you really don't need help, I'll go back to my workroom.”

Bianka turned to leave, but the Harbinger caught her arm. She looked at him, hope shining brightly in her eyes. The man squeezed the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“Alright, I agree," he capitulated. The researcher smiled, but Dottore did not let her enjoy her victory for long, “but only fifteen minutes.”

‘Well,’ she thought. ‘As they say, better a small fish than an empty dish.’

“If I don’t come back after that time, wake me up," he continued. “Now come here, I'll show you what to do.”

After a quick brief, Lord Dottore disappeared in one of the adjoining rooms. Bianka had already managed to discover that there was a small lounge with a sofa and an armchair. When the door closed behind him, she glanced at the clock, then set about mixing the reagents.

She felt that not a minute had passed since the man's disappearance when a quiet growl came from the room, growing louder by the minute. Bianka smirked. She did not suspect that the Second Harbinger himself was snoring, and quite loudly at that. Still, she was pleased that the Doctor had managed to recline at least for a moment.

‘Maybe his mood will improve after that,’ she mused.

After fifteen minutes, there was still no sign of the medic's imminent return. As promised, Bianka had left test tubes and beakers to help him return to the world of the living. As she opened the door to the provisional bedroom, the sounds of snoring became much louder. When she glanced inside, she saw Dottore lying on his back with one hand over his eyes and the other hanging inertly from the edge of the sofa. The woman tiptoed over to the sleeping man and shook him lightly.

“Doctor?” she whispered uncertainly. “Fifteen minutes have already passed.”

The lack of any response on his part prompted her to pat him on the face. Dottore shuddered before lifting his sleep-heavy eyelids with difficulty.

“’m getting up…" he mumbled. Bianka took a few steps back to make room for him, but he was in no hurry to fulfil his promise. She was still waiting for his reaction when she heard quiet snoring again.

“Doctor? Doctor!”

The Harbinger continued to sleep without a care in the world, and the vision of his awakening seemed as distant as the heat in the middle of a Snezhnayan winter. The researcher looked at his sleeping figure with something like sympathy. Since she had started working for him, she had managed to notice that Lord Dottore was always vigilant. He was quicker than her to realise when someone from the service was about to enter the laboratory. He also listened carefully and analysed every rustle of leaves and crackle of a broken stick that came from outside. Bianka was not surprised by this behaviour. After all, his position as the Second Harbinger carried as many benefits as dangers. If even her shouting could not bring him to his feet, it meant that the Doctor was truly exhausted.

Seeing that nothing more would work, Bianka returned to the main room. She analysed the Doctor's notes, which laid out the next steps of the experiment. She couldn't leave the concoctions alone; otherwise all the work would have been in vain. Having found a clean glass rod on a nearby shelf, she waited exactly one minute and thirty-seven seconds before carefully stirring the resulting solution.

****

When Dottore awoke from his sleep, he immediately realised that much more time than fifteen minutes have passed. Despite the prevailing darkness, he easily spotted the clock. 3:03 p.m. The man immediately sprang to his feet.

Three hours had passed. Three precious, completely wasted hours.

Feeling his anger rising, he rushed out of the room and headed straight for Bianka, who was surprised by his sudden appearance.

“I see that in addition to the usual checkup, I should have also examined your brain, as it is clearly not working as it’s supposed to,” he hissed. Bianka took a few steps back, but the Harbinger quickly pinned her against the wall. “Correct me if I'm wrong,” he said in a voice that strongly suggested what would happen if the woman actually tried it, “but I believe I instructed you to wake me up after fifteen minutes, not three hours!”

“And that's exactly what I did,” Dottore moved away, surprised to see her hard stare, “however, you were so tired that I couldn’t wake you up, Doctor. For this reason, I decided to continue with the experiment according to the notes.”

“Wait…”

“I mixed the solution of sodium base and Dragon's Blood,” Bianka did not let him get a word in, “then added one hundred microlitres of peroxidase and poured the solution into a flask. At the same time, I poured half a litre of distilled water into a second beaker and added…”

“OK, I get it!” he interrupted her dilatation, then sighed heavily. “This time you are lucky, because it looks like the experiment can still be saved. However, if it happens again, I want you to keep waking me up until I leave bed.”

Bianka's gaze softened and a smile appeared on her face.

“Of course, Doctor,” she assured. “I'll arm myself with a loudspeaker next time.”

The medic flicked her forehead, deciding not to comment further. In Bianka’s eyes, it wasn't much of a price for seeing a healthier Harbinger. Despite his short sleep, he looked much better. His gaze had become keen again and his stride was more springy. She observed for a while the grumpy man, who was trying to dress his sleep-tousled hair, before returning to her lab. Since then, something in their relationship had changed. Their common meals returned to the daily schedule. Each day, after entering the laboratory, the man would nod in her direction, and even grunt occasionally. He still mocked Bianka's words or work from time to time, but she felt he did it out of boredom or to tease her. All of this pleasantly surprised her, but the culminating point was when the medic begrudgingly asked her to help with the experiment. It  takes weeks for engineering students to learn as much as she learned back then about cores, electrical circuits, and relays. It was then that she began to believe that her sudden departure might have been a change for the better.

****

“Higher and a little more to the left.”

Bianka moved the lamp to the indicated place. Her hands were beginning to go numb from holding the object for so long. Meanwhile, Dottore was rummaging through the head of a rusty machine. The woman had no idea where the Harbinger was discovering all these contraptions. Every day when she came to work, she was greeted by new scrap iron taking up more and more space. She wondered how long it would take before the machines flooded her workroom too.

“Hand me the adjustable spanner.”

Bianka grabbed the tool and handed it to Dottore. He glanced at the object and, without turning away from the machine, gave it back to her.

“It's an ordinary spanner, not an adjustable one,” he stated. He looked at Bianka blankly. “How could you’ve confused those two tools?”

“Forgive me for not meeting your requirements, Doctor,” she replied coolly. “I never studied to be a mechanic.”

“Oh, someone got out of bed on the wrong side today,” he muttered, rising. “Did the horsefly sting you, that you are so angry?”

Dottore had correctly noticed that Bianka felt out of sorts. Her yesterday’s experiment was a failure; even now she could smell burnt hair in the lab. Moreover, after a restless night full of disturbing dreams, she woke up with a terrible headache.

“Not a horsefly, but a huge hornet.” Bianka knew she was playing with fire by responding to his words like that. Fortunately, the Harbinger seemed to have a lot of patience today.

“A pity it didn’t sting your tongue,” he said, leaning over the robot again. He chose the right tool and tightened the loosened bolt. “Maybe then you would’ve stopped cheeking so much.”

Bianka sticked out her tongue at him when he wasn't looking.

“If not mechanics, then why biology and chemistry?”

The woman furrowed her brows.

“What do you mean, biology and chemistry?”

“Why did you choose those particular subjects?” Dottore swatted her nose with a spanner. “Put your thinking cup on. You're getting lazy.”

“I don't know,” she grumbled, massaging the sore spot. “I guess I've just always been good at these subjects.”

“And that’s all?” The Doctor looked at her in disbelief before leaning over the machine. “Zero interest in the subject? Where did that curiosity of yours go?”

“It's not like that, of course I'm curious about these themes,” she said. Dottore glanced at her with narrowed eyes, waiting for further explanation. The woman sighed and pondered. “I've always liked science subjects, because they define how the world really works. People can make up their own rules and impose them on others, but ultimately the laws of nature are the most important ones.” Bianka looked at the robot absently. She was silent for a moment, thinking about her next words. “I guess the point is that it doesn't matter whether you're a simple labourer, a beggar… or a Second Harbinger, because for everyone these laws are the same.”

At that moment, the Doctor yanked the spark-shooting, tangled cables out of the contraption's guts. Snorting with laughter, he handed them to Bianka.

“Don't be so sure about that. All laws can be circumvented, even those established by 'Mother Nature', if only one has the ambition to do so.” Bianka looked at the man with suspicion. She felt that there was more to these words than meets the eye, but she could not determine what exactly. She tried to find the answer by scanning his face. Alas, she wasn’t able to discern anything interesting other than his indulgent smile. The medic interrupted her musings. “You'd better go check if you're not in the second storage, and while you're there, bring more cables like this one. Just try not to confuse them with a screwdriver.”

Bianka scoffed indignantly as she headed towards the storage where every mechanic's paradise was located. Such vast quantities of spare parts, tools and other junk were stored there that they would have been enough to equip an entire battalion. Meanwhile, Dottore was trying to reach the flap behind which the main core of the machine was hidden. He put his whole arm inside it when suddenly the end of a detached cable zapped his hand. The man hissed in pain, massaging the irritated area.

“I should have worn gloves,” he muttered to himself. “Where is this Bianka? After all, the cables are lying right on top of the table.”

At that moment, a stifled scream and the sound of something heavy hitting the floor came from the storage. Alarmed, he rose to his feet.

“Bianka?” he called out. “What are you doing there?”

The woman didn’t answer. Dottore heard only shuffling and moaning. With rising nervousness, he headed towards the room. Opening the door, he began his tirade:

“I swear, if you dropped the crate with the prototype engines, you can say goodbye to… Shit!”

Dottore rushed towards Bianka, who lay unconscious surrounded by scattered cables and gears. Every few seconds her body was shaken by violent spasms and her eyes moved involuntarily from side to side. The medic moved all unsafe objects away from Bianka, took off his lab coat, rolled it and placed under her head.

“The only ailment I haven't examined you for, and you happen have it,” he complained, venting his emotions. “Really, you'll be the death of me someday.”

The researcher didn’t allow him to continue whining, as she had just started having trouble with breathing.

“Oh no, you are not allowed to suffocate, you hear me, you mouthy hornet?!” In between spasms, he laid Bianka on her back and gently tilted her head up, easing her breathing. The woman managed to take a few rapid gasps of air before one particularly strong spasm caused her to wrap around the Harbinger’s arms. The man grunted from exertion.

“You can be strong, if you want to.” Dottore managed to extricate himself from her grasp. “Next time, I'll straitjacket you.”

A minute of spasms, moans and fighting later, Bianka's breathing began to even out and her tense muscles gradually relaxed. Finally, her gaze came into focus; she looked around unconsciously.

“What…?” Her voice was barely louder than a whisper.

“It's okay, you had an epileptic seizure, you lost consciousness for about three minutes,” Dottore explained. “Do you feel any pain or discomfort? Especially in your head?”

Bianka stared at him with absent eyes. The Doctor was concerned that the woman had suffered some kind of injury, but at first glance he didn’t see any wounds or bumps on her head.

“Who are you…?” Dottore winced, hearing her question. Sudden amnesia could prove to be no small obstacle, which they could not afford. He had to make sure Bianka wasn't ailing from anything else, but this battlefield that the Storage Number 2 had become was not fit to receive patients. The medic leaned over her and took her carefully in his arms.

“I'm taking you to your cottage,” he informed her. “Try not to wriggle too much.”

“I don't feel well…” The Harbinger furrowed his brows. All that was still missing was for Bianka to vomit on his favourite shirt. Fortunately, nothing of the sort happened. With a quick step, he walked along the path between the trees, glancing at his patient every now and then. The researcher seemed to be slumbering; her chest was rising and falling in an even rhythm. Having reached the villa, he spotted Rodion, who, alarmed by the sight of an unconscious patient, headed towards them.

“Send someone from the service to the hut.” Dottore wasted no time for pleasantries. “Maybe that girl who carries her breakfast.”

Without waiting for a reply, he walked on, reaching the cottage shortly afterwards. Fortunately, the door was open - the Doctor didn't feel the slightest urge to pry it open, holding the extra ballast. He crossed the dark living room to the bedroom, where he laid the still-sleeping woman on the bed. To be sure, he checked her breathing, pulse and response to light. He couldn't understand why he was so concerned. After all, Bianka was just a simple assistant, someone replaceable, and yet as soon as he saw her unconscious on the floor, he threw himself at her as if she were at least Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa. He had to get it together as soon as possible so that he would not succumb to unnecessary emotions again.

Having broken out of his reverie, he began to look through the bedside table.

‘If it wasn't the first time, you must store somewhere... Bingo!’

The man straightened up and lifted a small container filled with blue tablets against the light coming from the window. At that moment the tapping of shoes announced the arrival of the servant.

“You called for me, my lord?” a female voice spoke up.

“Indeed,” he replied, without taking his eyes off the medicine. “You will watch over Bianka while she rests. Inform me immediately if her condition changes or she wakes up.” Dottore opened the container, took out one pill and placed it on the bedside table next to the dragon figurine. “She is to take it when she regains consciousness. Understood?”

“Of course, my lord.”

Dottore took one last look at Bianka's sleeping figure and left the hut without a word. After returning to the laboratory, he placed the container on the table and, with a heavy gasp, sat down in his chair. The disembowelled head of the robot was still waiting for his attention. The Doctor groaned at the thought of finding the right cables in the cluttered chaos, aka Storage Number 2. His gaze wandered back to the pills. As far as he knew, this was the only medication prescribed to patients suffering from epilepsy. As could be seen, it wasn't doing its job very well. He began to wonder if he could come up with a better, more effective formula. He pat his head - of course he could make a better drug. The question was why such an idea had even come into his head. The Doctor didn't like to share his inventions, so it wouldn't help anyone but Bianka, and he'd already come to the conclusion that it was pointless, as Bianka wasn't someone particularly important. The Doctor's lips tightened into a thin line. He sat hunched over for a while, staring stubbornly into the distance, as if fighting an invisible enemy, and then stood up, took out a sheet of paper and began to write down ideas for a new prescription.

Chapter Text

Bianka woke up with a headache and nausea. She managed to open her sleepy eyes and look around. The room was dark; the curtains were drawn, effectively blocking out the light. She was lying on a comfortable bed that took up most of the available space. Sunlight shone through the gap between the curtains. She should hurry if she wanted to make it in time for the morning inspection. Eymen and the others would have a good laugh watching their supervisor scold Bianka for being late.

‘But how to get there?’ she thought. She wasn't sure where she actually was. Her room at the research centre looked completely different. Could it be that, by some miracle, she had drunk so much in the evening that she got lost on her way back from the “Snow Boar”?

Bianka heard quiet footsteps, and after a while a young woman entered the room, chewing an apple. The researcher had the irresistible impression that she had met her somewhere before. Perhaps it was she who had offered her help when she was looking for a way back? The stranger glanced at Bianka and stopped dead in her tracks. She swallowed a bite and said,

“You are finally awake, my lady. Don't worry, I will inform the doctor.”

“The doctor?” Bianka repeated, rising to a sitting position. “What doctor? What has happened?”

“What do you mean? You don't remember, my lady?” the maid said with disbelief. “Lord brought you here unconscious. He told me to contact him as soon as you wake up. And also,” she pointed to the blue pill, “he said that it’s important you take it, my lady.”

“You don't have to call me that, you're not much younger than me," she said. “What a lady I am anyway. I’m just a simple scientist.”

“I can see that you are modest. You're certainly not ‘just an ordinary scientist’ if the lord himself has taken notice of you. You must be very clever and have immense knowledge. But now you should really take the medicine.”

The girl slipped Bianka the pill and a glass of water. With a quiet, "Thank you", the woman swallowed the medicine. Satisfied, the maid stepped back and fished out a small device from her pocket. Having pressed a blue button, she put it back. Meanwhile, Bianka was massaging her temples to reduce her headache.

“I'm not sure which lord you're talking about, but I suspect he was the one who brought me here. Are you saying I was unconscious?”

The girl nodded.

“You looked as if you were asleep, but it was impossible to wake you up. The doctor left immediately when I arrived. That was about two hours ago, it's now two in the afternoon.”

Bianka realised that she must have had one of her seizures. That would explain why she couldn't remember what had happened just a few hours ago. ‘So I didn't lose my way after all,’ she mused. ‘What am I doing here, then?’

“What’s your name?” she asked instead. The servant smiled.

“I am Kalina, at your service,” she bowed.

“Kalina, is it far from here to the Main Research Institute?”

The girl looked confused.

“Quite far, about two or three days away.”

This time it was Bianka who furrowed her brows. She wished her head didn't hurt so much, maybe then everything would make more sense.

“Then where are we?”

“So you really don't remember,” Kalina muttered. “We are in Siniy Glaz, on private property of the Second of the Eleven Harbingers, Lord Dottore.”

Bianka looked at her in disbelief. She had only just been working in the lab with Tatiana, Wilhelm, Kiang and Eymen. How on earth did she end up in the house of one of the Harbingers, and of such a high rank at that?

“I think there's been some misunderstanding,” she began. “That's the first I've heard of…”

“Bianka.”

Her voice got stuck in her throat when she saw the masked man standing in the threshold of her bedroom. Lord Dottore was so tall he was almost touching the lintol. Or maybe it was just that the ceiling was so low, Bianka wasn't sure. Her body tensed as she pondered how she should behave. Instinctively she started to get up, but the Doctor put his hand on her chest and pushed her back onto the bed.

“Lie down,” he ordered. “You're still too weak to get up.”

“Wait, what's going on…?” Bianka tried to pull away from him. “I… I don't understand…”

“Go back to the villa, you are no longer needed here," he ordered. Kalina bowed, then left the room. The sound of the door closing signalled that they were alone. Bianka turned a frightened look at the Doctor, but he made no disturbing movement. Instead, he slowly raised his hand and removed the mask from his face, showing the researcher two ruby red eyes - one normal, the other half-closed.

“Do you remember me?” he asked.

Bianka stared at his face, trying to understand where the sudden certainty that she knew this dangerous-looking man had come from. Slowly, she began to recall snippets of events from the past weeks. Her small workroom, the broken vial, the mysterious machines, the silent mumbling and that red, penetrating stare.

“Doctor?” she muttered with uncertainty. Dottore smiled, showing sharp teeth.

“There is still hope for you,” he said happily. “I admit that I was a little worried when you had such a dull look after the seizure. I thought that you had suffered a brain injury, but I see now that my concerns were unnecessary.

Bianka tried to gather her thoughts. She remembered the grouchy Doctor, the lab, her cabin, but so many memories were still beyond her reach. How and when had she ended up here? What was the reason for her departure? Under what circumstances had she lost consciousness? Dottore sensed her discomfort and said reassuringly,

“I understand that your memory leaves a lot to be desired.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “I will try to resolve your doubts. Tell me what you don't remember and I'll remind you of what you should know.”

“But what about the work?” she asked nervously. The medic waved his hand dismissively.

“It can wait. Nothing is pressing us so far, so we can afford to take a breather. Ask away, Bianka.”

For the next hour, Dottore told the woman about their journey and their work together, so that she gradually managed to recover most of her memories. Then it was the Harbinger who began to question her about her illness - how long she had been ill, how many seizures she had suffered and why on earth she hadn't told him. After all her questions had been answered, the woman breathed a sigh of relief, visibly calmer.

“Thank you, Doctor,” she replied. “I feel much better now. Let me spruce myself up, I’ll go back to the laboratory in a bit.”

“Ah, ah, ah, not so fast,” he stopped her. “You should rest after such an attack. Stay in bed for the rest of the day, tomorrow we will continue as planned. Doctor's order.” Before he put on his mask, Dottore winked at Bianka, putting her in complete shock. A moment later, she was alone. Deciding to heed his advice, the researcher lay back down and closed her eyes. If she was given the chance to take a breath, she intended to take full advantage of it.

****

The next day, Bianka was still not feeling at full strength, but somehow managed to roll out of bed and made her way to the laboratory (with a few pauses to catch her breath). When she finally crawled to the lab, she was panting as hard as if she had run a triathlon. Seeing this, Dottore offered to administer her a roborant, however, taking notice of the syringe in his hands, she felt a burst of energy - she fled to her room and barricaded herself in from the inside. For the next three hours, the man was unable to get her out of there. Instead, he busied himself with working on the machine's head. After connecting the ripped cables together, he was able to access the core without any problems. Upon opening the flap, a grimace of displeasure appeared on his face. The core was burned out. The medic gritted his teeth, then called out,

“Come here already, Bianka. I have a mission for you.”

On the other side of the door there was a rustling sound. A moment later she put her head out and frowned at the Doctor.

“Don't be afraid, I've put away the syringe,” he said. “Come here, I'll explain what's the problem. You see this core? It's completely destroyed. Your task will be to go to my office in the villa and find a similar device. Take this one so you don't confuse them.”

“How will I know which office is yours, Doctor?” she asked.

“Ask Rodion, he's always hanging around somewhere.” Bianka took the core and headed for the exit when his voice stopped her. “One more thing. It's possible that… I might have amassed some miscellaneous stuff there. But, if you do a little digging, you should have no trouble finding the core. Now, off you go.”

The woman nodded, then trotted back to the villa. It turned out not to be her best idea, because once she got there, dark spots danced before her eyes. The ominous building towered over the forest, blocking the sun's rays and casting a long shadow. The woman swallowed, crossed the veranda and went inside. The interior of the villa was as gloomy as its façade. Dark walls, a permeating dimness and a lack of distinct colours were the dominant design elements. Several corridors and a staircase to the upper floors branched off from the sizable hall she found herself in. She had no idea where she should head, so she stood in the middle of the room hoping that someone would eventually see her. After five minutes, she heard quick footsteps in the corridor to her left.

“Lady Bianka?” Rodion's startled voice rang out. “I must admit, I didn't expect to see you here today. How are you feeling? You didn't look well yesterday.”

Bianka was a little surprised by the title the butler gave her. Kalina also addressed her with more respect than she would have expected. She smiled.

“Thank you, Rodion, much better now. The Doctor has taken care of me.” Her gaze grew serious. “I have a request. I need to get into the lord's study and find the core there.” Bianka showed the man the device. He measured it with a careful glance. ”Could you take me there?”

“Of course, Bianka. Follow me, please.”

The butler headed for the stairs. The researcher measured them with an uncertain gaze. It was not so much their appearance that frightened her, but rather their quantity. She massaged her chest.

“Is there no other way to get upstairs?” she asked. “I'm still weak; it would take a long time to climb the stairs.”

“We could take the lift,” he suggested. “It hasn't been used for a long time, but it should still work. At worst, it would be a quick trip all the way down.”

Bianka sincerely hoped Rodion was joking.

They stepped into the old lift, which dropped a few centimetres under their weight. The butler slid the grating shut and pressed the button with the number three on it. The lift moved with a loud screech. Bianka was surprised that no one had decided to renew it. The rest of the amenities both in the laboratory and in her hut was very modern.

“I remember when that lift was built,” Rodion spoke up. “I was much younger then, and the estate was inhabited by a certain count.”

“I thought it was Dottore who was and still is the first owner of the mansion.”

Rodion shook his head.

“For many years the villa had belonged to a Count Alexei Orlov, who had inherited it from his aunt. He was a grumpy old man and hardly ever received visitors - a classic misanthrope. If I'm to be completely honest with you, nothing has changed in this regard.” Bianka giggled. At this point they reached the third floor. After leaving the lift, they continued down the dark corridor. “As you can probably guess, I didn't have much work at the time. Life went on very quietly here until one frosty October morning.”

Bianka scooted closer, soaking up every word the man said.

“That day the estate was invaded by a band of mercenaries. Even now, no one knows how they managed to get here. Just as today, the area was surrounded by a sturdy fence made of one of the hardest materials known to mankind. There were no signs of digging, scratches on the bars or even broken tree branches. Anyway, the bandits broke into the mansion and slaughtered as many of the inhabitants as they could, including the old count. It later transpired that the mercenaries had been hired by another noble family with whom Alexei's house was feuding with. I was lucky, I had gone to visit my family at the time, so I missed the whole butchery. When I returned, it was all over.”

Bianka was shocked. She had not suspected that such terrible things happened here. At least she knew now how Dottore had come up with the lie about the old count.

“Despite these dark events, the world went on. The battlefield was cleaned up, the bodies were buried, and after some time, the Fatui, with the Ninth Harbinger's money, bought the estate, where a certain doctor moved in. It would seem that all memory of that incident has passed into oblivion. And yet,” he pointed at the wall. Bianka squinted and when she looked at it more closely, she saw an old, barely visible blood stain, “some traces cannot be erased.”

Finally, they reached the end of the corridor, where a black and gold door welcomed them, and right next to it a small keypad. Rodion typed in the code to unlock the entrance. As they stepped inside, Bianka took a moment to sweep the chaos she found herself in. The Doctor's office was so cluttered that just moving around risked serious injury. Against the left wall stood a bookcase on which, instead of books, a dozen boxes and crates were stacked. Some of them were so overstuffed that their contents spilled out onto the floor. In the back, broken machine parts, torn papers and broken boards were strewn about. Next to it stood a stained oak desk, on which lay piles of documents which, judging by the amount, no one had looked at for a long time. The dusty window was obscured by equally dirty curtains that blocked most of the sunlight. Because of this, the room was engulfed in perpetual semi-darkness.

‘Some stuff, Doctor?’ she thought, not believing her eyes. ‘That’s a real Armageddon!’

“As you might surmise, Lord Dottore only cares about the cleanliness of the rooms he finds useful for his experiments. This study is definitely not one of them. I'll leave you here now. When you find what you need, pull this cord and I'll come back for you.”

Bianka glanced at the aforementioned cord hanging from the ceiling. It must have been connected to a bell in another part of the building. She nodded her head. Rodion bowed and left the room. The door closed behind him with a quiet click.

It took her a whole hour to find a working core in this pile of junk. She started by searching through the boxes, but it proved to be neither an easy nor a pleasant task. The items in the boxes were not segregated; one of them contained both gears and some strange levers. Similar-looking levers were also present in the box next to it. Bianka took one out of each container and compared them, but did not notice any differences. A search through the other boxes was also unsuccessful. The woman began to get irritated. Where could this damned core be hidden? She started shuffling through the desk drawers (she wasn't sure if she was even allowed to do this, but her nervousness was effectively pushing her forward). Finally, in the last drawer, tucked into the very corner, she found a working core. She breathed a sigh of relief. After picking up the device, she walked to the cord, but tripped over one of the boards on the way, nearly dropping her treasure.

‘I'll tell that filthy man what I think of his 'stuff'.’ She was about to kick the bold piece of wood when a strange feeling suddenly hit her. She had the impression that she had forgotten something important. Something the Doctor hadn't bothered to tell her about. Or did he not know it himself? Bianka closed her eyes and massaged her temples. It was something important, something known only to her. A plank. Something to do with planks. She patted her head. ‘Think, Bianka! It's on the tip of your tongue!’ Something dawned on her. The lake. The beach. The planks on the beach. She shot open her eyes. Precisely! After all, she was collecting planks to build a…

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. A concerned Rodion poked his head inside.

“Is everything all right, lady Bianka?” he asked. “You've been sitting here a long time.”

“Thank you, Rodion, I was just about to call for you,” she replied. “I finally managed to find that cursed core. It was certainly not an easy task.”

“As my mother used to say, all's well that ends well. Shall we go?”

Bianka looked at the piece of wood still lying at her feet.

“Wouldn't it be a problem if I took this board as well?”

The butler shrugged his shoulders.

“I don't think the Doctor will ever need it.”

Bianka took the object before they both left the office. The return was uneventful. The lift, thank the gods, did not collapse under their weight. Nevertheless, Bianka was sure that the rasps and groans of the machine would linger in her memory for a long time. She thanked Rodion for his help ("Of course, Bianka, I am always at your service") and left the dark villa. Now she had to think what to do with the board. She couldn't take it back to the lab, because then the uncomfortable questions would start, and Bianka wasn't sure how Dottore would react to her idea. Leaving it in the hut was also out of the question; she had already wasted too much time anyway. She decided to hide the board in the bushes on the way to the workroom. If she was lucky, no one would realise that there was something that wasn't supposed to be there.

Upon entering the laboratory, she was greeted by the scraping of a pen against paper and mumbling.

“I'm back,” she announced her arrival. Dottore raised his head from the desk.

“Well, at last. I was already beginning to wonder if you'd had another attack. Did you get lost on the way?”

Bianka removed her mask, showing the Harbinger a meaningful look. Without a word she handed him the core.

“I understand the task was not as easy as it might have seemed,” he stated, turning the device in his hand. “Did the interior of my office impress you that much?”

“I think we understand the word ‘some’ differently, Doctor,” she replied coolly.

“Oh, don't be so dramatic, it couldn't have been that bad.”

Bianka glowered at him. Dottore raised his hands in surrender.

“Well, let's not talk about it anymore. The most important thing is that the core has found itself where it should be.”

“’Found itself?’”

“You found it.” Dottore wagged his finger at her. “You've been getting a bit too cocky lately. Remember, I'm in charge here.”

Bianka grunted something under her breath, but didn’t further comment. Dottore put down the core and leaned over his notes.

“Doctor, were you the one who took my pills?” she asked suddenly. Without a word, the medic reached into his trousers pocket, took out a bottle of medicine and spilled a few pills on the table top. Bianka furrowed her brows. “What about the rest?”

“You won't need it.”

The woman raised her eyebrows, but the Doctor did not elaborate. With a quiet sigh, she took the pills and went to her room. She still had to work out the formula for the new poison.

In the evening, trying to act naturally, she bid the Doctor farewell and went to the place hiding her treasure. Gasping with exertion, she managed to carry the board to her hut, where she left her apron and notebook, and then to the beach. After making the journey, she was so exhausted that for the next fifteen minutes all she could do was sit on a boulder and stare at the surface of the lake. She hoped that the weakness would pass soon. Having caught her breath, she dragged the fourth board to where she had hidden the others. It was still not enough. The woman sighed. Hopefully, it wouldn't take her long to find more planks.

****

The opportunity came exactly five days later.

That day, carts filled with supplies for the next months were arriving at the estate. These included food, clothing, hygiene items and (what a surprise!) more machine parts. However, only Dottore and Bianka knew about the contents of the last box. The woman was beginning to be troubled by the Doctor's obsession with anything that had at least a percentage of metal in it. Both the storage number one and number two were beginning to show signs of a significant overcrowding. Bianka had no idea where the medic would stuff a new supply of scrap iron, but she intended to defend her workroom with fangs and claws if necessary.

Dottore ordered Bianka to go to the entrance gate, wait there for the arrival of the carts, and then guard the transport of the machine parts. When she asked him why he was so concerned, the Doctor merely grumbled something; however, Bianka saw the concern in his eyes and realised that all these robots and automatons were of more value to him than she thought. She decided that she would not botch the job, especially as Lord Dottore had begun to show both her and her work a certain regard. Perhaps this would increase his respect for her.

Having reached the gate, a pleasant surprise awaited her in the form of Fyodor, smiling from ear to ear.

“It is lady Bianka herself!” he exclaimed in greeting. “It's been a long time! What brings you here?”

The woman laughed.

“Good to see you too, Fyodor,” she replied. “I believe the same as you. Lord Dottore told me to make sure the transport went smoothly.”

“Hmm... I didn't know the lord had so little confidence in me and the servants that he sent his deputy here.” Fyodor looked at her suspiciously. Bianka felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Fortunately, the carter burst out in thunderous laughter. “Just kidding! The Doctor is a distrustful creature. No wonder he wants someone here he can always rely on.”

Bianka blushed with awkwardness. Dottore didn’t give the impression that he had complete confidence in her at all. For example, the last time she tried to move an almost finished robot head without asking, he slapped her side with a rolled-up cloth and told her to run back to the workroom.

“We're still working on it,” she finally said. Fyodor giggled. The arrival of the carts spared her further embarrassment. The gate opened with a quiet rasp, letting the drivers into the estate. The gathered divided into pairs, then selected one vehicle each and led them in the appropriate direction. Bianka and Fyodor took the fourth cart, which was literally bowing under the weight of the goods.

“Darn tootin’, what could possibly weigh so much?” Fyodor wondered. Bianka twisted her mouth. Dottore could bring in whole crates of iron, but she wasn't allowed to buy a single picture frame? An outrageous injustice.

“A pile of jigamarees,” she snorted. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

Fyodor chuckled again.

Following the path, Bianka busied herself with observing nature. The forest was in full bloom. Lilies of the valley lined most of the undergrowth. Hidden in between were bushes of berries and wild strawberries, which the local sparrows and tits eagerly fed on. The branches of the trees were bending under the weight of intensely green leaves and needles. Somewhere in the distance, a woodpecker's quick "thump, thump, thump" could be heard. Not far away hummed a forest stream that meandered through the forest, eventually flowing into the lake from which Siniy Glaz took its name.

Bianka breathed in the clean air. Fyodor smiled.

“Beautiful, isn't it?” he said. “June is the most wonderful month of the year. The only time when Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa releases Snezhnaya from the harsh winter’s clutches.”

“It's a pity it can't be like this all year round,” Bianka sighed.

“But lady Bianka, if winter did not exist, we would not know what is the meaning of spring or summer,” remarked the carter.

The woman could not disagree with him.

Suddenly her attention was drawn to a flash of red on the forest cover.

“What is that?” she said alarmed. Fyodor looked in the same direction. His face went pale.

“By Seven Archons,” he stuttered out. “What has happened here?”

Bianka ordered the driver to stop, before they left the path together. The ground and moss in this part of the forest were downright soaked with blood. Here and there, tufts of brown and white fur as well as pieces of meat were strewn about. They both glanced at each other uncertainly and then, exercising caution, followed the bloody trail. The tracks led them to a small clearing where the half-eaten body of a deer lay, full of large, deep wounds. Intestines were spilling out of the creature's open belly. There was pure panic hidden in its open eyes. Bianka felt herself getting faint.

“Some predator must have had a good feed here,” Fyodor stated. “Maybe wolves. Or a bear.”

“A bear? On the property? There's no way it managed to get behind the gate, the fence is too strong. It must have been something else.”

“I'm not sure what it could have been, but I know one thing,” he said. “Wounds like that certainly don't come from a human blade.” He squeezed Bianka's shoulder. “It's better if we don't stay here any longer. We must remain vigilant and not stray from the group. I'm not afraid of animals, but at the same time I wouldn't want to come face to face with this creature.”

Bianka was of a similar opinion. Without hesitating, they returned to the main path and continued walking, looking back every now and then. Soon they reached the laboratory, in front of which a slightly annoyed, masked Dottore was already waiting. At the sight of him, both the driver and Fyodor bowed their heads respectfully. The woman was taken aback - she had seen the Doctor so often that it was not easy for her to remember what an important function he had.

The researcher stepped forward and bowed slightly. If she had looked at the Harbinger's face now, she would have seen the shadow of a smirk.

“All the carts arrived without hindrance, my lord,” she reported. “The goods were also undamaged. However, we noticed something disturbing in the forest not far from here.”

“You'll tell me about it later,” the Doctor said. “Now we'll move this crate to the laboratory.”

By 'we'll move', Dottore meant that Bianka and Fyodor would do it while he watched and commented on their work (not very positively, Bianka felt the need to mention). The crate weighed probably a hundred kilos; the woman barely managed to lift it, even with the carter’s help. When they finally went inside and dropped it on the floor with a bang, she had to lean against the wall to avoid fainting. Meanwhile, the medic found a screwdriver and undid the screws holding the lid of the box. Right now, he resembled an excited child unwrapping a birthday present.

‘Dork,’ she thought, feeling a strange warmth in her heart.

Dottore pushed back the lid, revealing shiny new spare parts, metal plates, screws, coiled cables and crystal cores, all separated by compartments. Bianka had a feeling that if there had been no witnesses in the lab, the Doctor would have been rubbing his hands with glee.

“Fyodor, you can go now,” he spoke up. “Make sure that the other carts have arrived at their right destinations. While you, Bianka, will help me move all of this to the storages.”

Fyodor saluted Bianka, bowed to the Harbinger and left the building. The woman set about sorting the items. Unfortunately, it didn’t prove to be an easy or pleasant task. All (as usual) because of Dottore, who had a very clear vision of where and what should be placed. When the researcher started to arrange the cables among the other wires, the man interrupted her by waving his hands and said, “No, the blue one is supposed to be in the corner of the shelf and the red one is supposed to lie here in the front". Arranging the rest of the items was much the same, with Bianka running like a fool all over the warehouse and the Doctor standing in the middle of the room, telling her to rearrange or swap the position of specific items. When finally everything from the crate was in its place, the woman was exhausted both physically and mentally. Dottore looked around the storage with satisfaction.

“That worked out quite nicely,” he said. The researcher promised herself that if the Doctor told her to do a similar job again, she would drop it all, run off into the woods and start feeding on moss. “Let's not waste time, the job awaits.”

While returning to the main room, Dottore took a hammer from the shelf. Bianka was already lumbering back to her workroom when the loud cracking of wood echoed through the room. Reflexively, she hid her head in her hands and looked in surprise at the Harbinger, who was hammering on the crate, destroying it to pieces.

“What are you doing?” She was too stunned to remember the man's title. He paused and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

“You've seen my office. I already have too many of these boxes and crates, I don't need another one, so I'm destroying it.”

Dottore hauled off at the crate when Bianka grabbed his arm.

“Wait a minute,” she said. An idea began to smoulder in her mind. “Could I take one plank?”

“A plank?” he repeated. “What do you need a plank for? ‘I believe it’s not for poisons.”

Bianka bit her lip nervously. She reacted faster than she thought. The Doctor couldn’t learn about her intentions. She had to come up with an excuse, and a good one at that.

“I was just thinking…” she began, “that it would be nice if I could build a... bench.”

'Stupid, stupid, stupid,' she reproached herself. ‘There’s no way he will buy it!’

The medic looked at her suspiciously.

“Elaborate," he ordered.

“It's so beautiful outside now that it's a shame to sit indoors all day. I thought I would build a bench and put it in front of the cottage to get some fresh air. But in order to do this, I need a board.”

“And what will you make the legs out of?”

“There is a woodyard behind the hut. Some of the stumps are thick enough to support my weight.”

The man stared at her for a long time. Bianka began to fear that he had seen through her lie, but then the Doctor sighed, put down his hammer and carefully broke out one of the boards so as not to damage it.

“I'll give it to you at the end of the day,” he said, leaning the object against the wall. He grabbed the tool again. “It seems you wanted to tell me something earlier? Something about a finding in the forest?”

Bianka was so busy tidying up the storage that she had almost completely forgotten about the gruesome scene. She told the Harbinger about the blood trail and the deer that had been killed, while the man continued to destroy the crate. When she finished, the Doctor looked much calmer than she had imagined. He seemed completely unconcerned about the animal's tragic death.

“You worry too much, Bianka,” he said. “It must have been a pack of wolves that ventured closer to the buildings.”

“Doctor, it definitely didn't look like the work of wolves. I think we should…”

Dottore silenced her with a flick of his hand.

“That's enough, Bianka,” he said calmly. “You don't have to worry about it. If something really big had wandered in here, I would have known about it. If you are still afraid, don't walk in the forest after dark, then you won't be in danger.”

The woman wanted to protest, but he didn’t let get a word in.

“Go to your room and work some more on this new poison. I like the idea of using the red lionfish’s venom instead of wolf berries. I'd like to see the results when it's finished.”

Bianka was surprised. If the Doctor knew her authorial recipes, it meant he was leafing through her notes when she wasn't using them. Unsure of what to say, she went off to her room, accompanied by the Harbinger's barely audible chuckle.

****

A few hours later, the researcher stretched her stiff muscles, packed up and went to grab her trophy. As she reached for the board, she felt the Doctor's hand gently squeezing her shoulder.

“Do you need help with that bench?” he asked. There was a strange glint in his gaze. Bianka wasn't sure how to call this feeling. She knew, however, that it carried no threat.

“Would you really give me your precious time for such a trivial matter, Doctor?”

The man scoffed.

“I don't think building a primitive bench out of a plank and two stumps is a time-consuming activity. Besides, all the work for today is done, we aren’t in any rush.”

Bianka imagined a half-naked Dottore holding a few nails in his mouth and pounding the plank down to the stumps with vigour (why she imagined him shirtless will remain an unexplored mystery to her). It was an extremely tempting vision, but the researcher needed the board for something else.

“Thank you, however, I think I can manage,” she replied. “I'm not as weak as I look.” She winked at him. Dottore's hand rested on her shoulder for a moment longer before dropping to his side. The woman gave him a gentle smile. She bid him goodbye, picked up her things and went outside. Even as he sat down at the table and busied himself with modifying the robot, the Doctor couldn’t stop thinking about the scene that had just taken place. He had long ago realised that other people's lives were of no importance to him. He learned to always put himself and his needs first, and never helped anyone unless it also benefited himself. He didn't care about the well-being of others; in his opinion, everyone should deal with their problems on their own. Those rules simply made life easier.

Or at least it was like that until today.

For a long time now, he felt that Bianka had begun to exercise a certain influence on him. However, he still did not know whether it was beneficial or if he should protect himself from it. He had to tread very carefully and watch his own behaviour and emotions so as not to fall into the unyielding snare of his feelings.

Bianka was unaware of the Doctor's thoughts. When she reached the beach, she collected the remaining planks and stacked them on the sand. Such a quantity should be enough for her idea. On the way, she took a long rope from the hut, which she had found while shuffling through a small cellar, and cut it into smaller pieces. She looked up at the sky. The sun stood high; if she didn't procrastinate, she would make it in time before twilight. She knelt down on the sand and set to work, her companions a gentle sound of the waves and a trill of the forest blackbird.

Chapter Text

The next day, while walking towards the laboratory, Bianka was so excited that she hummed all the songs she had ever heard in the “Snow Boar”. She was already looking forward to the four p.m., when Dottore would let her out after another day of arduous but rewarding work. The previous evening, she had toiled until nightfall, when it became so dark that she could not see her own outstretched hand. Nevertheless, she was very pleased with the results.

Dottore was a perceptive man, so he noticed the change in her behaviour right away. He watched her from the corner of his eye as she walked past with a light step.

“Why are you so agitated today?” he asked, when his curiosity had reached its zenith. “You've been all smiles since this morning. Did something good happen?”

“Oh, can't I have a good mood from time to time, Doctor?” she replied with a smile. “It seems that my positive energy is too overwhelming for you.”

“Nothing of the sort. It's just that your behaviour deviates significantly from the norm. I concluded thus that something extraordinary has happened in the last few hours.”

Bianka made an offended face.

“Does this mean that, according to your observations, I’m gloomy on a daily basis?”

“I wouldn't say that,” he replied thoughtfully. “Rather calm and steady. Meanwhile, today you are behaving like an infatuated teenager who has managed to attract the attention of her crush.”

A giggle echoed through the room.

“I didn't know you were familiar with such concepts, Doctor,” she said. “Does this mean that you had a chance to experience these feelings first-hand? I was convinced that the only beings who could arouse your interest were the Ruin Guards.”

“What did you say?” The man threw himself at her, but Bianka managed to evade his grasp. Laughing, she ran off deeper into the corridor. ”Wait, you scally, as soon as I catch you, you'll see who's the one…”

Suddenly, a buzzing sound coming from his earring filled the room. The researcher turned around and looked curiously at the accessory, which started to vibrate gently. Dottore grabbed the earring and cursed under his breath.

“Already?” he muttered. “I thought it would be a few more days.”

“What’s going on? Why is it moving like that?”

“That's not your concern, Ms. Nosy. You'd better go and do something useful.”

“Why can't I know? Is this some great myst… Oh no!”

Bianka jumped away from the Doctor, who took a syringe out of a drawer. Seeing her reaction, he snorted with laughter.

“Stop panicking, it's not for you. But for me,” he muttered, fixing the needle. Then, to Bianka's confusion, he removed the earring, unscrewed the tip and inserted the needle into the resulting hole. Pulling the plunger, he filled the syringe with an oily, blue substance.

“What is that?” Bianka asked anxiously. “You're not going to inject yourself with it, are you?”

“Why not?” he answered the question with one of his own. He sat down on a nearby stool and with a flick of his fingers got rid of residual air. “It's not the first and certainly not the last time when I’m doing this.” He rolled up his shirt sleeve. Before inserting the needle, he looked at Bianka with a playful smile. “It's nice to know you're so concerned about me, though.”

The woman did not respond immediately; she was too busy watching the thick suspension disappear into Dottore's arm. Only after a moment did his words make sense. She blushed.

“It-it's not that I’m concerned.” She felt embarrassment, hearing that little stammer. “It's just that the substance didn't seem safe. I know what I'm talking about. After all, I deal with poisons.”

Dottore laughed mirthlessly.

“And I know what I'm doing. I also studied toxins and I'm pretty sure this serum is not one of them.” He massaged his temple and sighed. “Although it's not very gentle on the body either.”

He tried to rise from the stool, but had to lean on the table to avoid falling. Bianka ran over and grabbed his healthy arm, until he stopped wobbling. He didn’t try to push her away.

“Are you all right, Doctor?” There was a note of concern in her voice.

“Don't ask stupid questions, Bianka," he replied without any hint of malice. “You can see that I’m not feeling well. But this is normal. This serum, besides doing its job, exhausts the body. I’ll be good for nothing for the next few hours.” He sighed again, then looked at Bianka with tired eyes. “Help me over to the sofa, I need to take a nap.”

Bianka led him to their makeshift bedroom, and seated him on a couch. Dottore lay down and breathed a sigh of relief.

“I don’t have any tasks to assign to you today, you can take care of your own research,” he mumbled. “Don't wait for me if I'm not awake by lunchtime. You can send the servant with my meal away, I'll eat later. Do you want to ask about anything else while I can still speak lucidly?”

Bianka shook her head. She wished the Doctor sweet dreams, to which he smiled pityingly, informing her that Sumerian scholars never dream. The woman furrowed her brows. She wanted to ask what he meant (after all, she had heard the medic mumble in his sleep more than once), but Dottore was already asleep. She shrugged her shoulders and returned to the main room. It was possible that the man's words were merely a metaphor, the meaning of which only he knew.

During those few hours when the entire lab belonged to Bianka, ruled a surprising but no less welcome quietude. She managed to finish creating the first version of the new poison, which she labelled “FOR TESTING” and set aside on a shelf with other unchecked substances. Half an hour later, the bell rang to announce the arrival of the servant. The woman looked into the dark room, but Lord Dottore was still snoring loudly. She decided not to disturb him and instructed the young boy who had brought their meal to return later. Taking her time, she enjoyed a perfectly cooked schav with quail eggs and butter croutons. When she finished, the hands on the clock showed 2:34 p.m. She pondered. According to the day's schedule, she should finish work in an hour and a half, but then there wouldn't be much time left for her new hobby. Her gaze wandered to the door behind which Dottore was sleeping. It didn't look like he was going to wake up any time soon. She came up with a rather risky idea. What if she were to leave work early without telling anyone? If she was lucky, the Doctor wouldn’t wake up earlier than four o'clock and assume that she had gone back to her place without saying goodbye. She beat herself up with this thought for a while longer, then made her decision. As quietly as she could, she picked up her things and, wary of any change indicative of the Harbinger's imminent awakening, left the laboratory.

After the stuffiness of the laboratory, the gentle breeze caressing her skin was a pleasant change. With a quick step, she followed the path, turning every now and then to see if she was being chased by an angry monster in the form of a certain eccentric scientist. Fortunately, nothing of the sort happened, and after only a few minutes she reached the beach. She ran to a hiding place, for which she chose a crevice between two rocks, took out her creation and laid it on the gravel. Out of the procured planks, a rope, some thick poles and empty barrels (presumably used to store fish a long time ago) she built a raft. Admittedly, it left a lot to be desired (Bianka had never engaged in DIY before), but as long as it doesn’t shunt under her weight, the researcher will be satisfied. The previous day, she had also managed to create a paddle, using three sticks, a remaining rope and a piece of material found on the beach.

The moment of truth had arrived. Bianka took off her shoes, dragged the raft to the edge of the lake and guided it carefully into the water. To the woman's relief, her creation stayed afloat, carried by the gentle movements of the waves. Encouraged by this success, she jumped onto the “deck”, praying silently that the raft would remain equally unaffected. The construct sank slightly under her weight, but did not submerge completely. The researcher took a breath and chuckled with joy. Her work had not been in vain.

It took her another hour to learn to steer with the paddle. She spent most of this time swimming in circles and spinning around her axis. Eventually, by waving the oar once to one side and then the other, she managed to steer the raft in a more or less even line. Now that she had mastered this important skill, she looked around. She was surprised at the distance she had drifted away from the shore – her raft took her further than the middle of the lake. She was surrounded by towering peaks, perpetually covered in snow. Somewhere above her, a hungry osprey squawked, looking for a chance to hunt a fat trout.

As Bianka marvelled at the beautiful landscape, the waves carried the raft closer to the rocks. Just then, she spotted a small, hidden pass where the lake turned into a narrow stream. Curious, she swam closer to see what was hiding further down. Unfortunately, from her position, she was unable to tell - two metres from its start, the stream was turning and vanishing from her sight. The woman shrugged. She pointed the raft back towards the centre of the reservoir, but it had not moved even a metre. She realised that she had sailed too close to the isthmus and now the river current was pushing her towards it. Her frantic paddling was to no avail; moments later, she disappeared in the mountains’ shadow, not having the slightest idea where the peculiar path would carry her.

At first, the stream flowed at an even pace, weaving between high rock walls. After a few minutes, the pass between the mountains ended as suddenly as it had begun and Bianka found herself in an unfamiliar part of the forest. At some point, she felt the land slope change and the raft begun to swim faster and faster. The calm stream foamed and became turbulent, turning into a rushing river. A shriek of fear escaped from Bianka's throat as the raft tilted so much that she fell heavily onto the planks. With eyes as big as saucers, she stared ahead, begging the gods that no stones protruding from beneath the surface would appear on her path.

Five heart-wrenching minutes later (which seemed to last an eternity for Bianka), she finally felt that her raft was slowing down. After another two minutes, the river became calm again and the frantic descent turned into a lazy float. The researcher tried to get up, but shudders of fear made her have to sit back down. Instead, she scanned her surroundings. She had no idea where she was. On either side of the stream rose sandy escarpments overtaken by alders and spruces. Nowhere within her range of vision did she see buildings or anything else indicative of human presence.

As she passed the bend, she saw that some two hundred metres further along on the right the escarpment gave way to a sandy bank. A tree, which Bianka could not identify, was growing on it. The woman grabbed her paddle, stood on wobbly legs and hooked the root of the plant with the pole, so that the river current did not carry her away. Gasping from exertion, she managed to pull the raft to shore. Once she was able to get down safely, she jumped into the water and grabbed the edge of her transport to keep it from floating away, then dragged it onto the sand. Suddenly, she felt all her strength leave her. Exhausted, she sank onto her back with a groan and gazed up at the sky partly obscured by the treetops.

She must have fallen into a nap because, the next time she opened her eyes, the sun had changed its position. With a sigh, she sat, waited a moment, then stood up and shook off the sand that had stuck to her blouse. She couldn't stay here any longer, she needed to figure out where she was and discover how to get back to the estate. She decided to leave the raft on the shore - lugging it through the woods wouldn’t be a good idea. As the woman glanced towards the forest, she saw a barely visible path, disappearing somewhere between the trees. Bianka felt hope sprouting in her. If someone walked this way, for example to fetch water, then there had to be a settlement nearby, or at least a forest hut similar to her cottage.

The path stretched for about a kilometre. Cones and small twigs stung the soles of her feet (her shoes were still waiting for her on the beach by the lake), but curiosity pushed her forward. A forest track led her to the top of a hill, overlooking the valley below. Roughly in the centre of it, about two kilometres from the hill, was a town, most likely the one that Dottore had once mentioned to her. Feeling new strength enter her, Bianka set off towards it. Less than thirty minutes later, she reached the first buildings. Then, she suddenly stopped and mused. She hadn't considered beforehand how the locals might react to her arrival. The town was not large, more like a village, so most likely everyone knew each other - she could forget about blending in with the crowd. She knew that the servants here replenish supplies, such as food and other goods. She hoped that this meant the locals were used to the occasional presence of strangers. However, Bianka, with her dishevelled hair, grains of sand still adorning her clothes and bare feet, presented herself as a rather untrustworthy person. Tatiana certainly wouldn't beat around the bush and would call her an uncouth savage. Nevertheless, she did not want to give up - she had already come too far to retreat now. Without thinking any longer, she entered the village.

She was greeted by complete silence. Bianka knew that in such a small town didn’t live thousands, but the lack of a living soul on the streets was quite disturbing. As she passed one building after another, she read their signboards. She caught sight of a bakery, an antique shop and an inn with a friendly name "Dun Teddy" among others. She looked through the glass of one of the shops, shielding her eyes from the sun. There was no one inside and all the lights were out. Suddenly she heard some shouting coming from one of the alleys. She moved in that direction. Following the sounds of discontent, she reached the central square, which presumably acted as a plaza. A dozen, maybe a little more, people of various ages were standing there, talking to each other in raised voices.

‘The whole town must have gathered here,’ she thought. Curiously, she walked closer. If her self-preservation instinct had been a little bit bigger, perhaps she would have decided not to intervene. Perhaps, seeing so many upset people, she would have decided that her curiosity was not worth it and perhaps she would have gone home. However, Bianka was driven by the need to know, to discover uncounted secrets since she took her first steps. Danger was not an obstacle for her if gaining new knowledge was at stake. Therefore, she did not turn back, but fearlessly entered the crowd.

“This is unthinkable!” she managed to distinguish someone's voice. “For the third time this week!”

“This time I lost my favourite knife,” another joined in.

“I have been saving money for months to buy this sideboard, and now look!”

These and a dozen other anger-filled voices shouted at each other, wailing, complaining and execrating. Bianka pushed a little closer to the centre until she saw the source of the inhabitants' suffering. In the middle of the square lay various items of household equipment - wardrobes with scratched doors, tables with missing legs, broken plates and much more. Each item bore the marks of destruction.

“Hey, and where did you come from?!”

Gradually the put out voices quietened and curious but wary glances turned towards her. Bianka was not fond of being the centre of attention, so she felt very uncomfortable. The man who had first noticed her spoke up again,

“Are you that vandal who attacks us in the middle of the night and destroys our things?”

The researcher was taken aback, for the first time feeling a pang of fear. Before she had a chance to answer, another voice joined,

“Don't be ridiculous. Can't you see what a runt she is? She wouldn't even be able to break glass, let alone smash a wardrobe.”

“She could have accomplices and just be a scout herself.”

More voices joined the discussion until there was as much uproar as when she arrived. However, this time it looked like she was the subject of the bickering. The woman decided not to tempt fate any further. She took a few cautious steps back, then turned and quietly retreated back between the houses.

Or at least that was her intention.

“Not so fast,” an authoritative voice stopped her. “You owe us some explanations.”

Bianka considered whether to try to escape while she still had the chance. Unfortunately, a moment's hesitation was enough for the inhabitants to surround her, quickly nullifying her plan.

“Tell us who you are and how you got here,” he continued. “If you refuse to cooperate, we will assume that you are responsible for the destruction and take appropriate steps.”

Bianka turned and looked at her interlocutor. He was a middle-aged man with red hair streaked with the first strands of grey, sharp facial features and a hard look. As he walked towards her, the others moved out of his way. Bianka saw that he was treated with respect, so he must perform a high role in their community. She had to think fast if she didn't want to spend the next few days at the local police station (if they even had one here) before the furious (she was sure of it) Doctor realised what had happened to her. She didn't even want to think how much of a mess she'd get herself into then.

“I'm Bianka, niece of the Count of Siniy Glaz,” she said. “I came to my uncle for holidays.”

She once heard that for a lie to be believable, it must be based on the truth. She came to Siniy Glaz not so long ago; it is possible that the locals had heard of her arrival.

The assembled people looked at each other uncertainly.

“The old count still has a family?”

“I've never heard of him inviting guests to his residence before…”

Bianka laughed in embarrassment.

“Indeed, my uncle is certainly not a social butterfly.” An image of a grumpy Doctor, bent over the head of a machine, appeared in her mind. “He rather resembles a mean rat holed up in its own burrow.”

A couple of people smiled, two or three even cackled. The mayor continued to measure her with an attentive gaze.

“And which way did you come here?” he asked, squinting his eyes. “Certainly not the main road, we would have seen your arrival. And where did you lose your shoes?” He pointed to her bare feet. “Somehow I don't want to believe that the count's niece would run barefoot in the forest.”

“I came from the river, about two kilometres from here.” She waved her hand roughly in its direction. “I swam there on a raft which I built myself. As for the shoes… Leaving them on the beach by the lake was probably not a very good idea.”

“On the raft?!” shouted a voice from behind. “Your uncle is so stingy he won't let you take the carriage?”

“Where's the fun in that?” she replied. “It's a hundred times more exciting using the raft.” This statement could not be further from the truth. If she has to take that murderous route again, she'll drink a bucket of valerian beforehand. “I left her on the riverbank. If you don't believe me, you can go there and see.”

Most of the residents seemed to trust her, judging by their relaxed muscles and smoothed facial features. Some, however, still looked at her suspiciously, glancing at the red-haired man from time to time and waiting for his reaction. The man stroked his chin, considering her words. Finally, he came to a decision.

“If you are indeed the niece of the owner of that old mansion, surely you know what stands in front of the villa?”

The mayor said this as if he was waiting for her answer. Her curiosity has been piqued. If the man wanted to make sure she was telling the truth by asking such a specific question, then he must have once seen with his own eyes the area belonging to the Second Harbinger. Bianka thought about it.

“Do you mean the old fountain? It hasn't been used for a long time, if the dust and moss indicate anything.”

The man's gaze softened. He murmured with satisfaction.

“Then you really are coming from the old count,” he concluded. Hearing this, the others also calmed down. “Let me introduce myself. I am Mikhail, mayor of Siniy Glaz Village. Forgive me for this cold reception, but, as you may have already noticed, we have a bit of a problem with intruders here.”

Bianka surveyed the pile of destroyed furniture with her eyes.

“I apologise for my nosiness, but can I know what happened here? Perhaps I could be of some help?”

“A nobleman is bothered by the problems of simple folk?” a portly woman spoke up. She smelled of bread and buns. “This is rather unique.”

“If it is in my power to somehow remedy your problems, why should I not do so?” Bianka replied. “At worst, I'll just listen to you, you certainly won't lose anything by doing so.”

“She’s right," interjected Mikhail. “In our current situation we could use all the help we can get. Even if she can't do anything herself, maybe her uncle will agree to help us.”

A few grunts and murmurs of approval resounded at the square. Bianka squirmed. She was dead sure that Dottore would not even lift a finger if he found out about the townspeople’s troubles. What's more, if anyone told him about her little escapade, she wouldn't get away with it.

“For some time now, various objects have begun to disappear from our houses,” he continued. “At first it was nothing of value, just an ordinary cup or candle, but not long ago our pursuers became bolder ("More brazen!" shouted someone from the crowd). They started stealing food, weapons and small furniture such as stools and cupboards. We think they wanted to take the bigger ones too, but weren’t able to do so, thus they decided to destroy them.” He sighed and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “We were just trying to come up with an idea how to deal with that.”

Bianka furrowed her brows.

“They didn't take anything of real value? Jewellery, money?”

“It seemed strange to me too," a thin man with a goatee admitted. The young boy standing next to him laughed scornfully.

“They must be dumb as a box of rocks if they can't tell the difference between Mora and grit,” he said. “I suggest we ambush them at night, and when they come here, we'll pounce on them and give them a good belting. Like that!”

The boy pretended to hold a stick, then swung, accidentally bumping into Goatee. The latter gritted his teeth and grabbed the young man’s nape.

“I’ll be the one to give you a good belting, you little urchin!” he growled. “We have no idea how many of them are there. If we aren’t cautious, it will be us they will beat without mercy. You'd better stand aside and listen to what those smarter than you have to say.”

The discussion flamed up again. Bianka looked at the assembled people, who clearly could not come to an agreement. ‘One more minute and they'll be at each other's throats,’ she thought wryly. Her gaze flickered to the wardrobe with the ripped-out door. Involuntarily, her mind was flooded with memories of the Beast's enormous body and its terrible roar. She shook her head. She knew it couldn't have been the monster's doing. If it was the Beast bothering the inhabitants of Siniy Glaz, only splinters would remain of their things.

The woman came closer and looked at the wreckage. On the wardrobe next to the hinges, she noticed longitudinal depressions, as if someone (or something) had run over it with something sharp. She glanced at the table, of which only the top remained. When she tried to move it, the only remaining leg, bent in half, slid out from under the furniture. Upon closer inspection, the researcher concluded that the piece must have been hit by something heavy - the leg was concave, not broken.

“Have you come to any conclusions?” Bianka shuddered at the sound of Mikhail's voice. She was so absorbed in analysing the damage that she did not hear when the man approached her. She looked into his olive green eyes.

“You see, I don't think humans are responsible for this devastation,” she replied. “Treasure Hoarders are known to rob only of valuable items such as artefacts or money. I have never heard them vandalise items they don't need, their motto is rather, "Quickly and slyly". By causing so much damage, they would draw unnecessary attention to themselves.

“You seem to know quite a lot about the ways of these bandits," Mikhail remarked. Bianka smiled.

“Let's just say that, out of “concern”, my guardians have made sure that I know how to eschew them,” she replied mysteriously. The mayor merely muttered under his breath.

“If it wasn't the bandits, then who could do such a thing?”

The woman fell into a pensive state. There were several intelligent races living in Teyvat besides humans, but few of them were cunning enough to be able to organise thought-out and effective attacks.

“Maybe it's a particularly clever group of hilichurls,” she suggested, “or even envoys of the Abyss Order.”

“The Abyss Order?” he asked in disbelief. “I have no idea what these creatures could want in a small town like Siniy Glaz. Either way, we can't let them continue to steal from us. Something has to be done about it and ASAP.”

The man returned to the assembled people and clapped his hands a few times to get their attention.

“Listen, I think we now know who, or rather what, has decided to bother us.”

The man told them about the claw marks and the conclusions he and Bianka had come to. A few people nodded their heads, someone even waved a clenched fist in the air.

“Right now, our most important task is to find out how many of them are out there and where is their base of operations,” Mikhail continued. “As you know, there’s no Adventurer's Guild nearby, so we'll have to deal with it ourselves. I propose that we split into several groups and scour the surrounding areas. This needs to be done now, while our pursuers are resting after their nocturnal raid. What do you think?”

“If we are to go looking for them, then certainly not without weapons,” a huge man spoke up. “We must be prepared for a potential attack from the aggressors, especially if they are indeed monsters.”

“You’re right, Ruslan. It is necessary to ensure that no one goes on the search unarmed. Would we be able to find some more iron in this forge of yours?”

The man nodded affirmatively. Then, the baker spoke up.

“How will the other groups know when one of them manages to find the vandals?”

“We can use mirrors,” Bianka suggested. “There should be enough light for a few more hours. One person in each group would be selected to receive and send signals.”

No one raised any objections. For the next thirty minutes, the residents together with Bianka polished the plan, split into groups and chose the leaders. The researcher ended up in a team with Goatee, a young boy who turned out to be his son, Ruslan who turned out to be a blacksmith, and a girl around her age who may not have been very strong or fearless, but was known for her sharp mind and good heart. The function of observer was assigned to her, while Ruslan was to be their team leader. As agreed, each seeker was equipped with a weapon. Some got spears, others bows or steel swords (the baker even wielded a frying pan, bearing the marks of frequent use. This weapon might have seemed ridiculous at first, but in the strong, trained hands of the woman it looked truly menacing). Mikhail, along with a few others, was to stay in the town in case of a sudden attack from the bandits, while serving as reinforcements should the need arise.

“Good, everyone has been armed and assigned to a group, everyone also knows who to listen to and what their function is," the mayor concluded. “I will now say who is to comb which area. Witold, you will check the area along the river, Anastaysia, you will take the north. Ruslan and his group will go down the valley, and Maria will check the west up to that spruce tree which was struck by lightning.”

Each group headed in the indicated direction. Bianka followed the blacksmith and the others when someone grabbed her wrist.

“Wait a minute, Bianka,” Mikhail stopped her. “Are you sure you want to go? It's not a game of hare and hounds, it can get really dangerous, even if you're careful.”

Bianka smiled reassuringly at him.

“Please don't worry, I know what I'm doing. I'm not going there to experience an exciting adventure, I really want to help you all.”

The man nodded, but his grip didn’t lessen.

“I understand that I can't dissuade you from this idea, but please be careful. If you're telling the truth and you're the count's niece, we'd be in serious trouble if something happened to you. Promise me that if a fight breaks out, you won't interfere and back off instead.”

At first, Bianka wanted to protest. She was not a powerful fighter, in fact she had never learned to fight well, but cowardice was not in her nature. However, when she saw how concerned was he for her life, she decided to give in.

“Okay,” she sighed. “I swear I won't interfere in the fight, but rather run for help.”

The man smiled slightly and mumbled with satisfaction.

“You're all right, Bianka. I wouldn't feel well knowing that something happened to you because of our problems.” He patted her on the shoulder. “Go back to the group, they're waiting for you.”

The researcher waved goodbye and set off towards the others. Ruslan led them through the streets of the town and then along a road that transitioned smoothly into a forest track. A twilight was already starting to rule over the woods. It was unsettlingly quiet. The illusory tranquillity wasn’t disturbed by the birds’ twittering, the rustling of leaves or even by the patter of small creatures running through the undergrowth. Bianka associated this stillness with the calm before the storm. Or rather, a powerful tempest.

When they covered about five hundred metres, Ruslan instructed a young girl (whose name was Kira) to find a large boulder on a hill ("You know, the one Timur fell off a year ago and broke his leg," he said. The boy walking at his father's side shouted with indignation) and wait there for the signal. Kira lifted her thumb and ran confidently between the trees. He ordered the rest to split up, while stay within sight of the rest of the group at all times, and look for signs of the villains. Bianka looked around, deciding to check the area near the lone beech tree among the spruces that had caught her eye. She inspected the ground around her, the bark of the trees and even the branches for any sign of someone's presence. Every now and then she looked over her shoulder to keep an eye on the others. The omnipresent silence sent shivers down her spine.

Suddenly, a large weight landed on her back, pressing her to the ground. She wanted to scream, but her attacker quickly covered her mouth.

“Hey, don't panic like that,” she heard an amused voice. With surprise and growing anger, she recognised the boy from the group, Timur. “If my father hears us, we'd be in quite a pickle.”

“Are you crazy?!” she whispered furiously. “I thought a hilichurl pounced at me! I nearly had a heart attack.”

Timur scratched his head, clearly embarrassed.

“I guess it really wasn't such a good idea, sorry," he said. Bianka sighed and rubbed her forehead. Timur smiled impishly and quickly changed the subject. “So, you are a noblewoman, yes?”

“It appears so.”

“Wow, that must be really cool.” He started walking deeper into the forest. “To know that with just a snap of your fingers everyone is at your service.”

Bianka followed him.

“No, it's not like that,” she said. “A true nobleman knows the difference between making use of services and exploiting them. I do most of my daily chores myself. The servants only bring meals to me and my lord.”

“Your lord?” he asked in disbelief. “You call your uncle your ‘lord’?”

Bianka felt a sudden dryness in her mouth. Inwardly, she smacked her forehead.

“It's true that the count has his own strange rules, his so-called 'whims',” she replied evasively. “But since it’s his home, we must abide by them.”

Timur whistled and shook his head.

“I wouldn’t want to visit such an uncle, no matter how much money he had. I, on the other hand, have lived here with my dad since I was born. My mum died in childbirth, so we had to manage on our own from the beginning. But there's nothing wrong with that.” He threw her a mischievous smile. “This way, there are fewer people watching over me and it's easier to sneak off into the woods or to the river.”

Bianka smiled in response.

“In that case, you must know the area pretty well. Aren't you bored with these outings yet? Or do you come here together with Kira?”

The boy turned to her with an expression of absolute disgust on his face.

“Kira? Running off into the woods? Please, she's too well behaved to even think of committing such a 'crime'. If you told her to stay in the square for the next two hours, she wouldn't move even a metre. She's the one who always tells tales to my father about me when she feels I'm up to something. That girl acts like an annoying little sister.” He looked straight into Bianka's eyes. “You are much cooler.”

The woman blushed.

“Not as much as you may imagine.”

“I beg to differ. Admit it, you ran away from your uncle too, didn't you?”

Bianka's eyes widened in shock. She looked around, checking that no one had heard them.

“Don't be so loud or you'll set me up,” she whispered. She glanced at him curiously. “How did you know?”

Timur straightened up proudly.

“A rascal will always recognise another rascal.” He looked down at her bare feet. “To be frank, I didn't want to believe that a proud count would let his niece go into the forest without shoes.”

Bianka chuckled under her breath. However, she immediately turned serious.

“Can I trust you not to tell anyone about this?” she asked. “I'd get into a lot of trouble if my uncle found out about this.”

“No problem.” He flashed his teeth. “You won't rat me out and I won't rat you out. It will be our little secret.” He winked at her conspiratorially. Bianka calmed down. She looked behind her, only then noticing how far away from the group they wandered.

“We should turn back,” she said anxiously. “I can't see the others, and we were supposed to stay within each other’s sight.”

“Hey, no, wait!” Timur grabbed her shoulders. “Don't worry so much, we're in no danger here. I told you I come here often, I know this forest like the back of my hand. And if someone decides to bother us, then I'll grab a stick and swiAAAAA…”

Bianka dashed towards him as the boy stumbled on a stone and lost his balance. She didn't manage to catch him; he rolled down the steep slope before hitting the ground. Bianka quickly descended the hill, holding on protruding roots and tree trunks. Her heart was pounding like a hammer. She ran up to Timur, who was moaning in pain.

“Can you hear me?” she called out, shaking him lightly by the shoulders. “Tell me where it hurts.”

“Everywhere,” he choked out, grinding his teeth, “but I don't think I've broken anything.”

Bianka breathed a sigh of relief.

“You have to be more careful. Don't forget that we're looking for dangerous rouges here, we could be attacked at any moment.”

“Now you are starting to sound like my father.” The woman bristled, but Timur didn’t look angry. He giggled and, groaning, rose to his feet. He stretched a few times to relax his muscles. “All right, I'll live.” He looked up the slope. “I think we should go back, in case they start looking for us.”

“And who's panicking now, eh?” Bianka looked at him accusingly. The boy bared his teeth.

“Well, if you're not bored yet, we can…”

Bianka didn't find out what they could do as their attention was drawn to a strange grunting and mumbling. Immediately, they fell silent. Timur put his finger to his lips and, with a movement of his head, pointed to the place where the noises were coming from. He slowly walked in that direction, the woman following him. When they stalked closer, they dropped to the ground and crawled to the edge of the next rise. Bianka’s eyes widened. Below she saw a medium-sized basin surrounded on all sides by tree-covered hills. In the centre of the hollow, a cluster of churls had set up camp. The researcher spotted several hilichurls, two mitachurls and one samachurl brandishing a blue ritual totem. However, it was not these creatures that sent shivers down her spine, but an Abyss Mage, white as snow, performing heretical rituals around a bonfire. Mumbling under its breath, the creature threw something into the fire; furious red flames burst into the air. Bianka crawled back in fear.

“Look over there!” whispered Timur in her ear. He pointed to a shady part of the clearing where furniture (or rather, what was left of it), weapons and other items stolen from the inhabitants were gathered. Bianka caught sight of one of the hilichurls lazily flipping a dagger from one hand to the other. “It's those savages who are stealing from us!”

“We must retreat and tell the others.” Timur wanted to protest, but Bianka didn’t let him speak. “We can't do anything here by ourselves, there are far too many of them. Have you seen that Abyss Mage? It could freeze you with a wave of its hand. This problem requires a whole village.”

The boy tightened his lips, but did not resist. This time it was Bianka who led the way, doubling back on herself until they were closer to the group. They didn't exchange a single word the whole way, for fear of the churls’ keen hearing. Only when Ruslan's silhouette flashed by did she dare to speak up.

“We found them!” she shouted in greeting. The blacksmith raised his head, and, after a moment, Goatee joined him. “It’s a band of churls led by the Cryo Abyss Mage.”

Ruslan straightened up. He furrowed his eyebrows in thought, and turned to the other man.

“Igor, run to Kira, have her send a message to the others.” Goatee nodded and disappeared between the trees. The blacksmith turned his attention back to them. “Are you two all right? We didn't see you anywhere, and thought they had caught you.”

“We’re fine. Timur bruised himself a bit, but no major injuries.”

The blacksmith's face brightened up.

“You are quite the notorieties,” he , “but be careful in the future. Especially you.” He scowled at Timur, who smiled with abashment. At that moment, they spotted some flashes on a hill a few dozen metres away. Kira passed the message. “There's nothing here for us. Let's go back and let the others know what we have found.”

They waited a while longer for Igor and Kira and together returned to the town. Timur walked beside Bianka and amused her with conversation. His father glared at him from time to time - the researcher felt that her new friend would not miss a scolding for his bruises and arch ideas.

Upon reaching the village, Ruslan reported on their expedition to Mikhail, while the rest told the villagers about their discovery. At Kira's signal, all the groups returned to the square and gathered to discuss the next steps.

“We’ll attack tomorrow during the day, when they will be resting after their raid,” Mikhail ordered. “There are a lot of them, so we have to go in a big group too.”

“I think it will be better to split into smaller teams and attack in several places at once,” the baker interjected. “That way they won't be able to throw themselves at all of us.”

“Good point, Maria. I would like you to take care of it. Get Witold to help you, it will go faster.” A stocky man with a determined look nodded his head and approached Maria. Because of his short height, he reminded Bianka of a pygmy standing next to a powerful giant. “Ruslan, I would ask you again to take care of the arming. Decide what weapons will be best for fighting in such terrain. Anastasia, we will discuss our strategy.”

Bianka was impressed by the harmony and commitment of the gathered. No one tried to argue, smart off or shirk their duties. These people had to cope with all adversities with only each other’s help. It helped them create a special bond. They were like one big family. The woman remembered what a close-knit team they made together with Eymen and the others. They also understood each other without words.

“Bianka,” Mikhail's voice snapped her out of her reverie. “I think you should go home now. It's getting dark, your uncle must be worried about you.” She almost burst into laughter when she imagined Dottore biting his nails out of fear for her. She was sure the Doctor would sooner give up his experiments than show any sign of concern for anyone's wellbeing. “I'll ask someone to escort you to the residence gate. Surely they will be willing to help such a nice lass like you.”

Bianka was too frightened by the man's words to feel embarrassed by the compliment. The more people, the bigger the chance that Lord Dottore would spot them.

“There's no need for that,” she said quickly. “Everyone should concentrate on planning the counterattack. The estate is not far from here, I can easily return alone.”

Mikhail did not look convinced, but, seeing her sincere look, he sighed and nodded.

“OK, but be careful, it can get dangerous in the forest at night. Farewell, Girl Without Shoes, and may the ice melt on your path.”

The woman thanked him and set off on her way back. As she walked along the empty streets, someone tapped her lightly on the shoulder.

“Hey, you didn't think about leaving without saying goodbye, did you?”

She breathed a clear sigh of relief and turned to Timur.

“Sorry, I'm in a hurry to return home before nighttime.” She looked at him slyly. “Shouldn't you be with the others, helping with planning the attack?”

“They are unlikely to be interested in the opinion of an imp like me.” He smiled, then leaned closer to Bianka. “Will you come to fight with us tomorrow? I think you would be a valuable ally.”

The researcher smiled enigmatically and winked. Timur laughed happily and closed her in a tight hug. Bianka groaned in surprise.

“In that case, I'll see you tomorrow,” he exclaimed. “We'll show these creatures how messing with us ends.”

The woman hesitantly returned the hug, to which Timur squeezed her even tighter. Finally, however, he released her from his embrace and wished her a good night. After a while, he was gone. Bianka shook her head affectionately and set off through the forest. Every minute it was getting darker and darker and she could see less and less. The tits and blackbirds were finishing their songs, replaced by hooting owls and cicadas playing arias known only to them. In the distance, she even heard a lone wolf howling. At one point, out of the corner of her eye, she saw some movement, but when she looked in its direction, nothing caught her eye. She decided to speed up. After another ten minutes or so, she found herself back on the riverbank, where she had left the raft. She knew she couldn’t use it on her way back - the drift was too strong. She decided that she would head along the stream until she reached the point where the narrow passage leading to the lake began. The current there was so lazy that it hardly moved the water, and the terrain was not sloping. She should be able to swim across the isthmus if she paddled efficiently. Only if that idea failed would she try to get through the fence. The thought made her blood freeze - she had a feeling, if not confidence, that the Doctor was well aware of who was crossing the boundaries of his property and when.

Fortunately, the journey back passed without unpleasant adventures. She discovered that only by the river the trees grew densely; further on, the area was open enough for her to pass through without too much difficulty. Unfortunately, she had overlooked one important issue - the weight of the raft. ‘I probably should have accepted Mikhail’s help after all,’ she mused as she alternately pulled and pushed the not so light raft. Because of her imprudence, it took her almost two hours to travel a distance that had previously lasted a few minutes. During this time, the woman tried not to stray too far from the stream and made sure that she could always hear it. Occasionally, between the alders, she could see its sparkling surface. When she reached the strait, she slowly lowered the raft into the water, holding it all the time so it wouldn't float away. Having corrected her grip, she quickly jumped onto the planks, grabbed the oar and began to row. At first the current pushed the raft sideways, however, after a while, the woman found an even rhythm and managed to travel the entire length of the stream, reaching Siniy Glaz.

At night, the lake looked even more beautiful than in the daytime. The entire sky was reflected on its surface - from the stars twinkling merrily to the moon wandering alone in the sky. Bianka felt an overwhelming urge to stay longer and completely lose herself in observing this unearthly view. However, she knew that it was already very late - if she didn't want to feel sleepy all day tomorrow, she had to hurry. Promising to herself that she would come back here to admire the constellations reflected in the lake, she swam to the beach, pulled the raft away from the shore so that it wouldn't be swept away by the water, put on her shoes and ran to the hut. The distant hooting of a horned owl was the only sound that accompanied her back to the safety of her shelter.

Chapter Text

Bianka felt like she had closed her eyes only for a few minutes when the sun's rays broke through the curtains and illuminated her face. She thought it was a bad joke. She was hardly able to lift her sleep-heavy eyelids, let alone get up, wash, eat and set out for work. Moreover, her mind was still busy working out some foggy and disturbing dreams, full of fear of a strange and deep rumbling. But then she remembered the events of the previous day - the lake, the rushing river, the town and the churl camp. Seconds later, it dawned on her what awaited her in the afternoon, if she decided to help the people of Siniy Glaz to drive the monsters away. This effectively managed wake her up. Instantly, she felt a sense of dread - she had never taken part in a real battle before, let alone one with an inhuman opponent. The only time she had ever gripped a weapon was during the training that all Fatui soldiers had to undergo. However, at that time the swords were wooden and the participant could surrender, if they were no longer able to fight. Now she would have to give it her all, possibly even kill to save her own life.

She began to wonder, what had tempted her to offer her help in chasing the monsters away. She, frail and without any combat experience, had joined the warrior team without hesitation. Meanwhile, the only “weapon” she knew how to wield was the fountain pen Kiang gave her. A certain thought crossed her mind to go to the lab, work on a new concoction, and at the end of the day return calmly to the hut and forget about the whole thing. But then she remembered Mikhail's fierceness, Maria the baker’s determined look and Timur's hopeful gaze. She didn't want any of them, or any of the other residents, to get hurt. She already knew that, no matter how terrified she was, no matter how hesitant she felt, she would still go to the town today and stand shoulder to shoulder with the townspeople.

Resigned, she slowly got out of bed, dressed, packed and ate breakfast. The porridge with berries and maple syrup was delicious as usual, but Bianka couldn't bring herself to swallow more than a few spoons. Leaving her unfinished meal on the table, she left the hut and set off for the laboratory.

Dottore had managed to recover from the serum – he was just as alert (and grouchy, to Bianka's displeasure) as usual. His earring, in which he kept the medicine, was once again full of glowing substance. Bianka saw, however, that the oblong test tube attached to the front of the Doctor’s distinctive lab coat was full only in one-third. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together.

At the sound of the door opening, the man raised his head and glanced in her direction.

“Hello, Bian…” he began, but immediately stopped. He got up from the table and approached her, measuring her with a careful gaze. Gently but firmly, he took her by the chin and turned her towards him. Bianka had no idea what was happening or what she should do. She waited in silence for the Doctor's verdict. He analysed her bloodshot eyes, dishevelled hair and pale complexion for several long seconds and finally pronounced, “You look awful.”

‘Thanks, Doctor,’ she thought bitterly. ‘This will definitely boost my morale before the battle.’ She managed to pull away from his grasp.

“I'm fine,” she replied before the Harbinger could elaborate. Her words, instead of reassuring the man, only deepened his suspicion. “I'll go to my place now.”

She headed towards the workroom, but Dottore blocked her way again.

“What time did you leave the laboratory yesterday?” he asked. “When I woke up around half past three, you were gone.”

'So he noticed after all,' a thought crossed her mind. She lowered her head meekly.

“I felt sick," she lied, “and decided to return to the cottage and rest. I'm sorry.”

Dottore squinted. He took off one of his gloves and put his hand to her forehead. The researcher ducked her head.

“I'm fine, really,” she swore. “After I took a nap, I felt much better. I can work now.”

The medic was not satisfied. On the contrary, his concern increased even more.

“Yesterday you were in an uncharacteristically good mood, while today you are behaving like a woman in mourning,” he said. The researcher felt a growing irritation and then anger. “I know something has happened, but for some reason you don't want to tell me about it. I’m reminding you for probably the hundredth time that I'm your superior, not the other way around, and if there's something I should know about, you're to tell…”

“I’m telling you, nothing happened!” she growled at him, baring her teeth in anger. Only after several seconds did she realise what she’d actually done. Dottore's eyes bulged in shock, as if he could not believe that Bianka was capable of making such a loud sound at all. The woman herself didn’t know, why she had acted like that. All she felt was that she needed to be alone. She muttered a silent apology, passed the still stunned Doctor and locked herself in her own workroom.

Dottore, meanwhile, was digesting the situation. He tried to remember the last time in his long, very long life that someone had interrupted him in mid-sentence, bellowed straight into his face and walked away without looking back. He came to the conclusion that it was about never years ago. He was torn. On the one hand, he felt so much indignation that he wanted to pull Bianka out by her hair, strap her to a surgical table and rearrange all her organs. But at the same time, he felt a kind of strange tingling in his stomach caused by an unknown to him emotion. All he knew was that the sensation was positive. If he had had a little more humility in him, he might have admitted that Bianka's attitude impressed him a bit. However, the Harbinger was too proud to even think about that possibility. Either way, he knew he had come across an interesting case. A case worth investigating. He decided not to interfere (at least for the time being). If the life of a scientist had taught him anything, it was that by observing the test subject, one could learn more about it than by artificially inducing its reactions.

Bianka spent half a day in the workroom. She tried to occupy herself with her work, but the awareness of the coming battle effectively hindered her. She thought back to her argument with Lord Dottore. How many lives had his sword or scalpel cut short? Had he ever hesitated before delivering the final blow? Did he flinch when he saw the blood of a defenceless creature on his hands at least once? Or perhaps he was cutthroat from the start. Maybe he never stopped and pondered about the morality of his actions. It was hard for Bianka to admit it, but in that moment, she wished he would give her some of his determination, confidence and even cruelty.

But only a part of it. And a small one at that.

She didn’t leave the room until lunchtime. During the meal she hasn’t exchanged a single word with the Doctor. The man was not bothered by this. On the contrary, he was pleased, as it allowed him to observe Bianka freely and analyse the delicate twitches of her lips, her furrowed brows and her clenched fists. Dottore espied the full range of emotions in her faraway look, from fear to rage, which slowly merged and transformed into grim determination. He had seen this look before, usually in criminals’ eyes moments before their sentence was due, or warriors awaiting the signal for a battle from which they might not return. He felt a sense of discomfort at the thought that Bianka had just been going through something similar. The situation might have been more serious than he thought. However, he knew that not even torture would extract more information from a human of such determination. Bianka’s lips would remain sealed - he had no doubt about that. So he decided that he would not press her, hoping that she herself would one day decide to confide in him about her anguish. However, this didn’t mean he would forget the whole affair, no. He would wait patiently, like a predator for its prey.

When Bianka got up from the table and headed for her room, he stopped her with a wave of his hand.

“I would like you to help me with a few simple tasks," he said. Then, for the rest of the day, he thought small activities up for her, some as trivial as cleaning tools, so that she could not lock herself in the workroom again. When he ran out of ideas, he ordered her to stand in the middle of the room with her hand raised, in which she held a torch, without giving any logical reason for this command. If Bianka knew the Doctor's true intentions, she didn't let it show. She was a little annoyed by this game of monkey tricks, but, if she had to be frank, the Harbinger’s orders effectively helped to occupy her thoughts. She was grateful for his perceptiveness.

The next thing she knew, four o'clock struck. Bianka began to stress again. She wasn't sure she had it in her to be able to take another being's life in cold blood. What if a moment's hesitation on her part allowed the enemy to gather strength and plunge a blade into her heart? With such thoughts, she moved towards the exit when she felt a warm hand on her shoulder. She turned to Dottore with a silent question on her face. The man looked at her with a penetrating gaze for a long time. Finally, he said curtly,

“I’m here.”

The woman's eyes widened in surprise. To someone who didn’t deal with the Second Harbinger on a daily basis, his words would probably mean nothing. It is possible that the delinquent would’ve felt confusion or perhaps even fear at the thought that they had forgotten something of real importance and were about to pay dearly for it. But Bianka has spent countless hours in the company of the eccentric Doctor and immediately understood what he meant – "I'm here, in case you needed me." She knew that she had just received a tremendous honour. For Dottore expected his subordinates to always be at his beck and call, but he never, ever offered anything in return. The corners of Bianka's mouth involuntarily lifted. She placed her own hand on the man's one.

“I know that, Doctor.”

She wasn't sure if the barely noticeable smile on his face was just a game of shadows or if it really happened. The medic's hand involuntarily dropped to his side. Bianka waited another moment, then walked towards the exit.

“I'll see you tomorrow at seven o'clock in the morning,” he said. This time Bianka didn’t manage to hold back a smile. “Don’t dare be late.”

“Of course, Doctor” she replied and left the building.

The Harbinger's support managed to lift her spirits a little. With renewed strength, she ran to the hut, where her already packed backpack was waiting for her. She put in it a small water bag, some bandages she had managed to steal from the laboratory and a torch in case she had to return home after dark.

‘If I get back at all,’ she thought grimly.

She put on her backpack and headed for the exit. She was already about to leave the hut when she remembered an important thing. She touched the necklace she had received from Eymen the day she left. Bianka wore it every day – it reminded her of the beautiful moments she had spent with her friends and gave her encouragement when nothing went her way. Now, however, she decided to take it off and leave it on her bedside table. She was afraid that it might get damaged during the battle.

“Wait here for me,” she whispered. “I'll come back to you, you’ll see.”

She went outside and ran to the beach. The raft was waiting for her at the ready. She put her backpack on it and dragged it into the water. This time she made sure that her shoes swam with her. The rafting trip went without any major incidents. Bianka was afraid of the turbulent part of the river, but she was prepared for it. When she was close to it, she sat down on the raft so as not to fall, like last time. The water managed to splash her clothes a little, but she paid no attention to it. A short time later, she reached the beach. Just like last time, she hooked her oar to a tree root and pulled the raft onto the sand. Having moved it farther away from the shore, she checked the contents of her backpack once more, took a deep breath, straightened up and set off through the forest with a quick step.

After walking around two hundred metres, she felt the first drops of an approaching storm. Above the mountains, she saw a purple zigzag of lightning, and immediately afterwards a distant thunder reached her ears. The air had already been hot and sultry for many days, so the rain wasn’t a surprise for her. She knew, however, that a downpour would make the fight much more difficult. She hoped that the storm would bypass them by a wide berth.

Unfortunately, her thoughts proved to be a false dawn. When she finally reached the border of the forest and stood in front of the first buildings, it was already pouring. She was completely soaked and the compacted earth had turned to mud. She was unable to see further than a few metres. Nevertheless, she moved ahead, feeling the already familiar fear that seemed to have returned with redoubled strength. She had a nasty feeling that the battle in the basin was going to be much harder than she had initially thought. She chased the bad thoughts away - she didn’t always have faith in her own strength, yet many people had praised her for her courage and determination.

She will survive.

She has to, or Lord Dottore will dig her twisted, dead body up, bring her back to life and beat the living daylights out of her for insubordination and pathetic fighting techniques.

The streets of the town were just as quiet and deserted as the last time - the strike team must have already set off for the hollow. Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she saw some movement in one of the alleys.

“Hey, are you the count’s niece?” someone's voice called out. Through the wall of rain, she managed to discern a female silhouette. She must have been one of the people left on guard in the village. “They left about fifteen minutes ago. You have to hurry if you want to catch up with them.”

Bianka thanked the stranger and rushed towards the forest with all her speed. She was lucky that it was her group that had managed to find the churl camp; otherwise, she could have easily got lost in the wilderness. The rain assaulted her eyes as she tried to spot a familiar face among the shadows cast by the old spruces and the storm clouds. She passed the beech tree by which she had been "attacked" by Timur the day before. Something flashed a few metres away. She ran in that direction, but then slipped on the wet ground. She would surely have hit the ground hard, if someone had not grabbed her arm at the last moment and helped her back up onto her feet. Raising her head, she saw Mikhail, soaked from head to toe but still determined.

“Mr Mikhail, forgive me for my tardiness,” she apologised. “I had to help my uncle…”

Bianka fell silent in surprise as the man closed her mouth with his hand. He put a finger to his lips, ordering her to keep quiet. He turned towards the rest of the group, which was walking a few steps ahead of them, snapped his fingers to get their attention and summoned Ruslan with a wave of his hand. The blacksmith approached them quietly like a lynx, carrying the armoury. Mikhail mused.

“Let's give her a spear,” he suggested, whispering. “It doesn't require much skill, and she will be able to attack enemies from afar.”

Ruslan agreed with him and handed Bianka a medium-length spear. When she took it, she found the weapon a little too heavy, but under the present circumstances she couldn’t afford to grimace. Ruslan left, and in his place Mikhail summoned a young woman with long, fair hair, which she had tied up in a ponytail so that it did not obscure her eyes. She was dressed in a hunter's outfit, with a bow and quiver with arrows slung across her back, and a belt, behind which she put a long knife.

“This is Anastaysia," Mikhail said. The woman nodded her head in greeting, to which Bianka replied with the same. “You’ll be a part of her group. Your task will be to get rid of one of the hilichurls.”

Suddenly, Bianka felt a strong pang of panic upon hearing the mayor's emphatic words. Earlier, the visions of battle had seemed unreal; now, however, she was about to come face-to-face with beings who wished her death. The researcher stifled her growing fear before it could completely take over her mind. She thought about the fact that tomorrow Lord Dottore will be waiting for her in the lab, and she had to be there. Otherwise, he would start looking for her and would probably wander into the village as well. Bianka didn’t want to expose her new friends to the Harbinger’s ire because of her own bravado. She nodded her head as a sign that she understood and followed Anastaysia to the rest of the group.

The whole team gathered around the basin. Crouching on the escarpment, they looked like lurking wolves, waiting for the signal of their guide to lead them on a bloody hunt. Their victims walked in circles around the camp, shaking cold water off their thick shags, sharpening their weapons or sitting huddled close to each other to keep any remaining warmth. The pile of lumber stolen from the inhabitants grew slightly larger – the monsters had not been idle the night before. None of them noticed the bloodthirsty opponents heralding their doom.

Bianka crouched down beside Anastaysia and two other people who also belonged to their group. Nearby, she caught sight of Timur, crouched right next to his father. He blinked at her through a wall of rain (or at least she thought so, as the downpour made it much more difficult to see clearly). Together with two other residents, they formed a team tasked with eliminating two remaining hilichurls. Bianka's attention was drawn to a pleasant-looking middle-aged woman bent over something on the other side of the basin. In front of her were some vials with a glowing red liquid inside. She raised one of them to her eyes, brushing back her thick, curly hair and wiping her round glasses, which were instantly covered with a new layer of raindrops.

“This is Natasha, our alchemist," Anastaysia whispered in her ear. “She has prepared the Burning Oil especially for this battle. If the vial is broken, the potion will instantly ignite, even in such a downpour. It will prove useful in destroying the mage’s cryo barrier. It should also help with that giant's shield.” She pointed to one of the mitachurls. Bianka tried to listen, but could only think of one thing.

“When will the battle begin?” She asked, trying to stop the trembling in her voice.

“When Mikhail gives us the signal to attack,” she replied. “But first Maria and Witold will get rid of the samachurl. We wouldn't want this scrub to heal our opponents.”

Bianka glanced at the small creature, which was performing some strange movements at the edge of the hollow. She realised that the samachurl was dancing. She was not surprised by this – water was its element, so it was no wonder that he took to the storm like a duck to… well, water.

“One more thing,” Anastaysia continued. “Once we eliminate this hilichurl, stand somewhere off to the side and keep your head down. You're inexperienced in fighting, we can't let any of these creatures hurt you. And leave that backpack here, it’ll only slow you down.”

Bianka obeyed, took off her backpack, which in its current state looked more like a wet bag, and put it down on the ground. She didn't mind that most of the time she would only watch the battle. She definitely did not feel up to fighting the with the Abyss Mage, let alone a powerful mitachurl.

After a few minutes, something finally started to happen. Two people, in whom Bianka recognised Maria the baker and her group partner, Witold, descended the slope unnoticed and hid behind the bushes near the dancing samachurl. The researcher watched with bated breath as Witold grabbed a stone from the ground, leaned slightly out from behind a plant, swung and threw it at the unsuspecting creature. Samachurl squealed in pain and massaged the back of its head, where a sizable bump was slowly growing. He turned in the direction where the bullet had come from and approached the inconspicuous bushes cautiously. Bianka scanned the rest of the camp, fearing that one of the churls might have noticed the strange behaviour of a fellow companion. Fortunately, none seemed alarmed. The woman resumed watching the samachurl, which was shuffling through the bushes in search of the source of his misfortune. Suddenly, Maria's mighty hand grabbed the monster's neck and dragged it deeper into the bushes; its staff fell silently to the ground. The creature was so startled that nothing came out of its throat but a quiet whimper. Bianka couldn’t see what was happening in the thicket. She saw the bushes move, a barely audible grunt came to her ears, and then complete silence, broken only by the sound of rain. Suddenly, Maria poked her head out and showed Mikhail her raised thumb. Bianka felt something twist in her stomach when she noticed that the baker's entire hand was smeared with blood.

For a few seconds there was complete stillness. The atmosphere was as tense as a fishing line seconds before snapping. With all her willpower, Bianka managed to stop her body from trembling with fear. It felt as if she had managed to root herself in place and was unable to move. She swallowed loudly and clenched her hand tighter on the spear. Suddenly, someone shouted, someone whistled and before she had time to realise what was happening, the entire group was running down the slope with a wild shriek. Completely bewildered, the monsters rose up, trying to understand, who had launched an attack on them. One of the mitachurls raised its axe, but fell when a second one carrying a shield bumped into it. The Abyss Mage momentarily surrounded itself with a barrier and sent several ice projectiles towards the attackers. Bianka watched the scene with shock twisting her face. Anastaysia grabbed her arm and pulled her towards one of the hilichurls. At the same time, three other pairs attacked the other hilichurls. Somewhere next to her she heard Ruslan's wild howl, the small silhouette of Kira flashed by, but before she had time to get a better look at her, the hilichurl’s club was already falling towards her head. Acting on instinct alone, Bianka raised her spear crosswise and managed to block the blow. Barely seeing where she was aiming, she swung and hit the hilichurl straight in the face, tilting its mask. The hilichurl yelled furiously and threw himself at her with his whole body. Bianka raised her spear again and, flexing all her muscles, took the monster's hit. She slipped on the wet ground, but managed to catch her balance. Gathering her last strength, she pushed the creature away, which fell straight on Anastaysia's grinded dagger. The blade plunged into its flesh, running it through. Bright red gore gushed from the wound, splattering the ground around it. The monster swayed, groaned, then fell to the ground with a dull bump. A second hilichurl collapsed right next to it, so injured that every bit of its skin was covered in blood. Bianka froze, seeing the growing scarlet puddles. Then, Anastaysia shook her by the shoulders and shouted straight into her ear,

“GO, HIDE AND LIE LOW!”

Before she had time to reply, the woman was already rushing towards the mitachurl holding an axe. The creature was just preparing to cut off Ruslan's head. Fortunately, the blacksmith wasn’t a frail rookie. With a ferocious roar, he deflected the churl's blow with his terrifying sledgehammer and swept at the monster's torso himself, trying to break its ribs. Before Bianka could see more, her field of vision was blocked by a second mitachurl, attacked by Mikhail and Maria. They were pouncing at the creature alternatively, swapping after each blow. However, the creature's shield was resilient, their attacks leaving only scratches and shallow depressions on it. She saw the combatants begin to run out of strength, and the mitachurl slowly regained the initiative. At that moment, however, a girl unknown to Bianka shouted a warning and threw a furious red vial towards the mitachurl. The vessel burst with a loud crack, spilling oil on the shield, which momentarily burst into flames. The creature swung it, trying to put out the fire, but to no avail. Mikhail raised his own axe, shouted belligerently and struck the shield with all his might. The cover, weakened from the flames, shattered into pieces. Bianka hissed in surprise when one of the flying splinters cut her cheek, leaving a long wound.

Bianka ran to the other side of the basin to get out of the mitachurls' range, and that's when a little chaos appeared before her eyes. The fights with the powerful creatures were terrible, but it was the attack on the Abyss Mage that proved to be the most challenging. As many as five people were fighting with it. Kira was running around the mage, hitting its shield every now and then to draw its attention to herself. She was so fast that she blurred in Bianka’s eyes. Meanwhile, the others were throwing the Burning Oil at the monster, trying to destroy the magical barrier. The creature mumbled under its breath and cast spells, sending icicles and clouds of frost at the combatants. Most managed to dodge its attacks, but not all. The researcher saw a man who was crawling to the edge of the clearing, his leg completely frozen. Bianka ran towards him and helped him escape from the battlefield. The others continued to throw the vials, but the shield didn’t yield. The fire caught on contact with the barrier, but was extinguished just as quickly, unable to overcome the ancient magic. And then Natasha came up with a brilliant idea. Instead of throwing vials at the creature, the woman hurled one underneath it. Flames spurted, despite the wet ground, and licked at the cryo shield. The barrier flickered a few times, shined brightly for a moment, and finally vanished, releasing the Abyss Mage, which fell straight into the fire. The creature squealed in horror and pain as its robes caught fire and all the attackers rushed at it simultaneously. Bianka looked away. She didn't want to watch the mage be shredded to pieces by the furious warriors.

After several minutes of fierce fighting, the battle began to come to an end. All the hilichurls lay lifeless on the wet soil. The axe-wielding mitachurl was somehow still standing, but it was already severely weakened. A number of arrows were lodged in his back and shoulder, and the creature itself was limping heavily. At one point, Anastaysia drew her bow, squinted, and, having waited for a convenient opportunity, released an arrow which plunged into the churl’s head. The monster fell to its knees and collapsed to the ground. Ruslan, who had fought with the mitachurl the longest, lay down in the middle of the clearing, panting heavily. The other monster was already lying on the ground, being finished off by exhausted Mikhail and Maria. Finally, the silence reigned. Even the downpour weakened, turning into a regular rain, then into a drizzle before stopping altogether. Everyone watched the battlefield with silent bafflement. Several people, including Timur, lay on the ground with wounds and broken bones, but it looked like the monsters had not managed to kill anyone. Eventually, a joyful shout echoed across the basin, joined by more voices. After a while, the clearing was already roaring with thunderous cheers. The battle has been won!

Bianka, with a spear in her hand and a broad smile on her face, moved towards Timur, who, despite the deep wound in his side, was laughing alongside the others. Finally, he saw her too; the boy flashed his teeth joyfully.

“How do you like our way of solving problems?” he exclaimed, giggling with excitement. Bianka laughed in response. She felt frisky.

“I admit, it's rather… original,” she replied, “but it quite suits…”

“TIMUR, WATCH OUT!”

Bianka looked around, noticing that one of the hilichurls was not dead at all and had managed to get to its feet with its last strength. Fuelled by adrenaline and driven by pure bloodlust, the monster rushed at Timur with a shriek. The researcher saw the others draw their weapons and run towards them, but she knew that they would not be able to get to the boy in time. Anastaysia drew her bow but didn’t shoot; it was too risky. Then Bianka did something very foolish, but at the same time admirably heroic. The woman stood in front of Timur, crouched down and positioned her spearhead towards the monster. The hilichurl, completely blinded by rage, fell on the spear at full bore. Bianka felt the spearhead plunge into the creature's flesh, and pierce through muscle and bone. Blood gushed towards her, pelting her face and clothes. She quickly closed her eyes and mouth, but still felt a metallic taste on her tongue. Panicked, she threw away the spear, and with that, the hilichurl, which fell lifelessly to the ground. Her heart was fluttering in her chest like it wanted to escape and run for the hills, and her hands were shaking with terror. Only after a few seconds did she become aware of the triumphant roar that rang out all around her and of hands grabbing her arms, legs, torso, everywhere and lifting her high above the heads of those gathered.

“BIAN-KA, BIAN-KA, BIAN-KA!” the inhabitants chanted her name, screamed and whistled. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Timur’s father who helped him get to his feet. The boy looked as if he had been possessed by some demon. He was jumping in euphoria and howling the loudest of them all.

“You are amazing, Bianka!” he screamed. “Please, marry me!”

Bianka, exhausted, shaking with emotion, with her face covered in blood, burst out laughing and started shouting along with the others.

And so ended her first skirmish – the Battle of Siniy Glaz.

****

Once everyone had enough time to shout out their excitement and enjoy the victory, it was time to return to the town. Bianka carried her backpack down to the hollow and took out a water sac to wash off the mud and blood. Natasha approached her and, stammering, asked if she could use the rest of the water to clean the residents' wounds. The researcher gladly gave her the sac, also handing her the still-dry bandages ("Thank gods that Snezhnayan backpacks are waterproof", she thought). The alchemist thanked her profusely and, together with two other people, left to treat the most severely injured. Witold had a broken leg, so his fellows had to carry him (not without problems, given his corpulence), while the man whom Bianka had helped crawl to the edge of the basin had second-degree frostbite. Natasha said that with proper care, the leg should recover fully. The others shuffled through the pile of lumber, taking everything that was still usable. They left the rest behind, too tired to burden themselves with yet another load, and eventually the whole group set off on the homeward journey.

As their bustling march passed through the forest, Bianka approached Mikhail, collecting a few friendly pats on the back along the way.

“Shouldn't we do something with the churl bodies?” she asked concernedly. “Bury or burn them.”

The man shook his head and smiled.

“There’s no need for that," he replied. “The wild animals will deal with them perfectly well and the snow will cover the rest. You'll see that in a week or two, there won't remain even a trace of the fight.”

This seemed sad in a way to Bianka. So many people had fought for their own home in the hollow, and yet the evidence of it was about to be erased.  But that was the order of things - after every skirmish, not just a mortal one, one had to pick oneself up and move on. For the rest, she was sure that the memory of this day would be preserved in many local stories.

The day was drawing to a close. The rain clouds had dissipated, revealing a boundless sky in colours of blue, pink and orange. The air was clear and crisp. The tree branches bowed from the collected water; every now and then she heard a quiet dripping of single drops that managed to break through the barrier of leaves and needles. Having emerged from the forest, Bianka noticed that the entire valley was bathed in the mighty mountains’ shadow. Only their peaks were still illuminated by the glow of the setting sun.

Shortly afterwards, the victorious procession crossed the town's threshold, announcing its arrival with loud cheers. This was enough for the whole town to gather in the square. Everyone greeted the participants with thunderous applause. For the next several minutes, the combatants told everyone who remained in the town about the course of the battle, the courage of the warriors and the strength of the enemy. And when they had finished, they were asked to tell it all again. Timur made a point of describing exactly how Bianka had stood up for him and defeated the crazed hilichurl. There was a surprised sigh from the crowd; to this day, she remembers the residents bowing their heads in recognition and directing words of admiration to her. Finally, Igor, whom Bianka will always remember as Goatee, also spoke up.

“You saved my son's life today, Bianka," he said solemnly. “We are all eternally grateful to you for that. Tell me, how can we repay you for your courage?”

The woman replied that she doesn’t expect anything; that anyone in her position would certainly not hesitate to do the same, but the stubbornness of the mountain people was second to none. The researcher mused, tapped her chin a few times with her finger, closed her eyes, then opened them with a quiet yelp. She looked around at the assembled people, who were awaiting her words with bated breaths, and asked,

“Is there anyone here who sells picture frames?”

Chapter Text

The residents of Siniy Glaz didn’t let her go home until she had danced several times to the sound of upbeat music and poured into herself two pints of beer. The man whose leg had been frozen by the Abyss Mage invited everyone to his inn “Dun Teddy” to celebrate their great victory. He himself was unable to serve the customers, but his wife eagerly took over. The evening was filled with bustle, laughter, good food and funny songs. When Bianka finally left the tavern with a beautifully decorated photo frame and Timur treading on her heels, it was well after midnight. The inn owner offered her a place to stay for the night (for free, of course), but Bianka declined, saying that she had to go to work in the morning. Seeing that she was wobbling slightly, Timur offered to help her carry the raft, but Igor quickly quenched his enthusiasm, pointing out that with such a wound he would reach the forest line at most. The boy grimaced, but eventually agreed with his father. He bid her goodbye and made her promise to return to the town as soon as she could. Meanwhile, Igor and Mikhail (who seemed to be the only reasonably sober people) went with her to the river so that she wouldn’t have to return alone in complete darkness. The men carried her raft, while she lit their way with a flashlight she had taken out of her backpack.

“How silent. I can't remember the last time it was like this,” Igor said, looking around uncertainly. Indeed, the forest was devoid of the usual sounds, such as the chirring of crickets or even the rustling of leaves.

“Heh, we must have chased all the animals away with our yells,” Mikhail stated. He didn't seem the least bit bothered by the unnatural stillness. “Don't worry, in a few days it'll be as noisy as in the capital again.”

Thanks to their cooperation, they managed to reach the isthmus much faster than Bianka had the previous evening. The men lowered the raft to the ground and stretched their sore backs.

“This is where we say goodbye, Bianka,” Mikhail said. “I would like to thank you once again for your help. You will always be welcome in Siniy Glaz.”

Bianka blushed with embarrassment. She bowed her head to hide her reddened cheeks.

“I'm glad I could do something for you,” she replied politely. Mikhail smiled and patted her on the back.

“Be careful when you swim across that pass. Your… uncle would surely be very worried, if something happened to you.”

Something in his voice made Bianka look at him more closely. There was an enigmatic smile on the man's face and playful sparks in his eyes. She had a sudden feeling that the mayor knew more about the estate and its inhabitants than she had suspected. When he turned and winked at her when disappearing between the trees, she was already convinced.

She didn’t remember much from crossing the isthmus, then the lake, and wandering through the forest. It felt like one moment the night breeze was cooling her blushed face, the next she was lying in bed in her hut, and when she opened her eyes, it was bright again. In the morning, she felt even worse than the previous day. The mixture of emotions, adrenaline and alcohol had given her a massive headache. At this point, all she dreamt of was a few extra hours of sleep. Unfortunately, time was unrelenting, and so was Lord Dottore.

Somehow she managed to crawl to the door of the laboratory. Placing her hand on the handle, she hesitated. Did she really have the strength and composure to go in there? When she looked in the mirror after getting up, she realised that she looked like a man with one foot already in the grave. She was convinced that, as soon as she crossed the threshold, the inconvenient questions would begin – questions she probably wouldn't know how to answer. However, she knew that Dottore would not let her off the hook if she returned to the cottage now. Quite the opposite - she could be in even more trouble then. She sighed heavily, said a quick prayer to her Archon, the Tsaritsa, and opened the door.

Just as she suspected, the second she was inside, the Doctor literally materialised right in front of her. One look at her tired face was enough for a dangerous glint to appear in his eyes.

“Where were you yesterday?” The tone of his voice left no illusions that Bianka was going to be in quite a trouble, if her answers didn't please him.

“At my place,” she replied. Dottore squinted.

“At your place, you say? In that case, tell me, why do you look like you had been ran over by a herd of deer?”

Bianka swallowed loudly. She managed to withstand the Doctor's piercing gaze.

“I didn’t sleep well today. I'm just tired and need to rouse myself.”

The Harbinger leaned towards her. His gaze was so penetrating that it seemed to dissect her. Bianka glanced sideways, but the medic saw what she was trying so hard to hide. He slowly raised his hand, directed Bianka to look back at him, and brushed back her hair, revealing the long wound she acquired during the fight. The whole world seemed to hold its breath in anticipation of the Doctor's reaction. The man stared at the slash for a long time (‘Too long,’ she thought) and finally asked,

“And is that because of fatigue too?”

His voice was very quiet. Hidden in it was the promise of something far worse than a fight with an angry hilichurl. Involuntarily, Bianka saw a large, terrifying shadow of a giant, bloodthirsty monster.

“I…” she muttered.

“I advise you to think carefully about your next words,” he interrupted her in the same quiet tone, “because your future may depend on it.”

‘It's over,’ went through her mind. She lowered her head sadly.

“I didn’t stay in my hut,” she confessed. Dottore waited for her further words. Bianka sighed. “In fact…”

With her eyes she could still see the sharp, deadly claws, the great fangs and the glowing eyes, filled with pure hatred. She didn't know, if she had really seen it all that day, or if her tired mind had created this hellish image on its own. Not thinking at all of what was coming out of her mouth, she finished,

“... I went to look for signs of the Beast’s presence.”

The Harbinger's eyebrows went up. He had to admit that he didn’t expect such an answer. He quickly regained his composure and furrowed his brows.

“The Beast?” he repeated in disbelief. “Here? Where did this ridiculous idea come from?”

Bianka listened to him with only half an ear. When she said those words, she felt as if her anxiety had finally made sense. The woman rarely dreamed. Even more rarely did she have dreams that were more than meaningless blobs of colour, light and shadows. However, ever since she moved into the Second Harbinger's estate, nightmares began to plague her. They were not clear or understandable. Sometimes Bianka would only wake up with a feeling of trepidation, which would pass after a few seconds; then she would lie back down, and no longer remember anything in the morning. Other times, however, the dreams would take shape, become more tangible. Once she dreamt that she was running through a dark forest; she knew that if she stopped even for a moment, the creature treading on her heels would catch up with her and tear her apart. On another occasion, a terrible, nauseating stench crept into her sleep. She pinched her nose and breathed through her mouth, trying to locate its source. A short time later, a crackling and crunching sound came to her ears, followed by a deep growl. She woke up covered in sweat.

She didn't even notice when her hands began to tremble slightly. She shook herself out of the stupor and raised her fear-filled eyes to Dottore.

“Do you remember the day of the delivery, Doctor? Fyodor and I found a killed deer then. You said it was the work of wolves, but I think it was something else, something much bigger and more dangerous. Those wounds looked as if the poor animal had fallen into the armoury and impaled itself on each weapon in turn! And then there was the force with which the creature threw itself at it, almost enough to…”

Bianka chocked when Dottore grabbed her firmly by the shoulders. He looked deeply into her eyes so that she was unable to look away.

“There is no Beast, Bianka,” he said slowly, shaking his head. “Just as there is no possibility of any creature getting into the property without my knowledge.”

“But…”

“Shh.” Dottore put a finger to her lips, not letting her get a word in edgeways. “Nothing is going to pounce on you while you are walking in the forest, nothing is going to attack your hut in the middle of the night, and nothing is going to devour you on the way to the laboratory.” Slowly, he lowered his hand. Bianka remained silent. He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. “Don't think about it any more. Now come on, let’s get you a patch for that slash.”

After dressing the wound, the medic sent Bianka back to her workroom. The woman looked detached from reality. She knew she hadn't thought up the massacred deer or the Beast itself. That night Dottore had been with her, had seen the creature, heck! he even saved her life, and yet he didn’t trust her intuition. Instead, he treated her like a silly, frightened child. All that was missing to complete the image was for him to give her a lollipop. She spitted indignantly and grabbed the test tubes.

 “’There is no Beast, Bianka,’” she mocked him. “’You're paranoid, Bianka. You'd better get back to your test tubes, that's all you're good for. And don't annoy me any more, or I'll wring your neck, you bonehead.’”

She reached out abruptly for another vial, accidentally tripping the container full of hydrogen sulphide. She watched in horror as the vessel teetered and then fell, shattering on the floor. Instantly, a sickening smell of rotten eggs filled the room. Bianka choked and, restraining herself from vomiting, ran into the main room. Surprised, Dottore raised his head from the table and moved towards her.

“What's happening now…” He coughed and covered his face as the terrible stench reached him. With tears streaming from his eyes, he entered the workroom, looked at the broken container and, shaking his head, turned towards the researcher. “I’m going to wring your neck, you bonehead!”

Bianka felt an overwhelming urge to throw herself into the middle of the lake and never leave it again.

Because of the unbearable smell that had managed to spread through most of the laboratory, Dottore ordered the first official day off in the history of Siniy Glaz. The man kicked her out of the building, her lab coat, tools and mask close behind, threatened her with his finger and told her to go and do something useful, walking off down the forest path himself. She breathed a clear sigh of relief. She knew it could have gone much worse - the Harbinger could have ordered her to clean up the mess and continue working despite the bad smell, or even forced her to stay in the lab overnight. Despite her satisfaction at avoiding a harsher punishment, she sympathised with the servants who would be delegated for this task. On the other hand, those who had worked alongside Lord Dottore from the beginning must have been accustomed to the strange sights, sounds and smells emanating from his “cavern”.

The first thing Bianka did when she returned to the cottage was to collapse on her bed and fall into a deep sleep. When she woke up three hours later, she felt much more rested and spry. Recalling the Doctor's words, she decided that she wouldn't waste the day staring mindlessly at the ceiling, but would get on with the tidying. The cottage hadn't been cleaned for a long time (Bianka preferred to spend her free time in the woods or on the beach rather than suffocating in the dusty air), so there was already a layer of dust on the cupboards, the table and the mantelpiece. In the bathroom, she managed to find an old broom, a cloth and an unsigned bottle of some strange, greenish liquid. Bianka had not encountered a similar potion before, but it had a pleasant, lemony smell that somehow seemed “clean”. She poured some of the liquid onto the surface of the cupboard and wiped it off with a cloth. A quiet hissing sound came to her ears, and after a moment there was no trace of dust. She measured the bottle with a surprised, slightly suspicious glance, set it on the countertop, returned to the bedroom and began shuffling through her things. Surely she still had a pair of lab gloves somewhere…

****

Bianka has just been grappling with a particularly vicious cobweb, taking up an entire corner of the living room, when she heard a knock on the door. Discouraged, she put down her broom, wiped her sweat-wet forehead and approached the entrance. She wasn’t expecting to see a smiling Fyodor on the threshold of her cottage.

“Good morning, miss,” he greeted in a cheerful voice. “It's a beautiful day today, isn't it?”

He was right. After yesterday's storm, the sky took on a deep blue colour, disrupted only by airy clouds resembling brushstrokes. It was pleasantly warm, but not hot. This, as well as the light breeze and crisp air made the weather ideal for outdoor activities.

Bianka returned the smile.

“It's true, it would be a shame to spend such a beautiful day inside four walls.” She gave him a curious look. “To what do I owe your visit, Fyodor?”

“Ah, I'm glad you asked,” he replied. “To tell you the truth, I wasn't sure I'd see you here at this hour, but apparently I'm lucky today. I came to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye?” she repeated confusedly. “You are leaving?”

Fyodor nodded.

“It was nice to spend several weeks in such a beautiful place as Siniy Glaz, but it’s time to return to the palace. Lord Dottore is not the only nobleman who needs to get from A to B sometimes.” The coachman winked knowingly. Bianka felt a sting of sadness at the thought that she would no longer see his cheerful face. However, she didn't want to show it and spoil the friendly atmosphere.

“Wait a moment, I'll do myself up and see you off,” she decided. Fyodor got ruffled.

“There’s no need, miss, I'm sure you're quite busy…”

“Not at all, I'm free today. It won't be a problem, really.”

Reassured, he agreed to wait. Bianka rushed into the hut, washed her hands, changed into something looser, put on a mask and went outside. Together they started down the path towards the stable.

“You know, Bianka, when you opened the door, it was probably the first time I had a chance to see your face in all its glory,” Fyodor spoke. The woman felt embarrassed.

“In fact, I'd love to walk around without that cursed mask,” she tapped the source of her annoyance, “but Lord Dottore insists that I wear it wherever other people can see me. I'm not sure why. I guess it’s just one of the Fatui’s demands.”

“Tell me more about the Doctor,” he asked suddenly. “I ran into him when I was walking here. He always seems so cold and stern. Is he really like that every day?”

Bianka pondered about it. She thought back to this morning, to the Harbinger's intimidating aura and menacing gaze. Then she recalled his hand on her shoulder not long before the fight and the two words that had managed to lift her spirits: “I’m here.”

“Lord Dottore is quite a difficult man,” she decided to say. “Volatile and unpredictable. At first, it was extremely hard to find common ground with him. However, after a few clashes we managed to come to a relative understanding and we are getting along better and better. Of course, he often makes a point of reminding me that I am his subordinate and that he is the one who has the final say on many things (‘What doesn’t always come to me’, she thought), but sometimes I manage to… change his point of view a little.”

Silence followed her words. Bianka glanced at Fyodor, who was staring at her with a strange gleam in his eye and a gentle smile.

“Wow, I did not suspect that Lord Dottore is such a fascinating person,” he said. “I can tell from your words that you've managed to get to know him quite well. Besides, it seems to me that you have taken a liking to him.”

The carter squinted his eyes, as if he wanted to provoke Bianka into some kind of reaction, perhaps a confession of hidden feelings. She felt herself blush under his meaningful gaze, but managed to remain calm. She reflected on Fyodor's words.

“I'm not entirely convinced that my feelings can be described that way,” she replied. “It is hard to genuinely like such an eccentric person as Lord Dottore. Nevertheless, I respect and admire him for his achievements and… wild ideas. I am quite content for the chance to work alongside him.”

Bianka herself was surprised by her words. However, when she unhurriedly analysed her statement, she came to the conclusion that it was one hundred per cent sincere. Fyodor looked satisfied with her answer. His smile became even wider, and Bianka wasn't sure, if she wanted to know what thoughts were just swirling around in his mind.

“It's good that you're happy,” he concluded. “The Harbingers don't get rid of trusted people quickly, I'm sure you'll be working in the Doctor's lab for a long time. Perhaps even until the end…”

Fyodor never specified until the end of what. Until the end of the year? Until the end of the war? Until the end of Dottore's life?

Until the end of her life?

Bianka wanted to ask about this, but at that moment they reached the stable. Inside, it was dark and warm. In the twilight, the massive silhouettes of horses could be distinguished, clicking with their hooves and nickering in their box stalls. In the middle of the room, servants were busy brushing two huge, piebald geldings with a curry-comb and preparing one of the carriages for the journey.

“Thank you, Bianka, for the conversation,” Fyodor said. “It really made this time pleasant. Now I have to get down to work to set off for the palace as soon as possible.”

“Is it far from here to the capital?” she asked curiously.

“It depends. If one travelled by carriage alone, the journey would take about three or four days. However, since the railway tracks were laid at the foot of the mountains, the time was reduced to a dozen hours. Convenient, isn't it?” He winked at her, but sighed a moment later. “Unfortunately, I cannot afford such a luxury. Awaiting me are several days in the company of these two giants, whether I want it or not.” He stroked one of the horses' muzzle. The animal puffed with satisfaction. A smile bloomed on Bianka's face, seeing the strong bond that had formed between the coachman and his companions. It was nice to know that even in the beast’s lair that was the home of the Second Harbinger, friendship and fidelity could develop.

“I wish you a safe journey, Fyodor,” Bianka said. “Take care of yourself.”

“You too, miss.” The man's voice suddenly became serious, which surprised her a little. He looked around to see if anyone was eavesdropping on them and leaned towards the researcher. “Tonight I heard some strange noises. I'm used to the sounds of the forest, I've had to sleep in the deep wilderness more than once, so I'm not woken up by just anything. However, this was something different. It sounded as if some great creature was making its way through the undergrowth, crushing bushes and treelets.” Bianka felt her heart, which had been beating strongly and evenly up to that point, freeze in terror. This was not the end of Fyodor's story, however. “Then there was another strange sound, something like a very deep rumbling, getting quieter and stronger alternately. I have no idea what it was. I admit that I was too scared to go outside and see what had decided to visit us, but I can say with certainty that I have never encountered anything like it. The horses were also more restless than usual, surely they sensed the presence of this creature, whatever it was.”

Bianka tried with all her might not to show how frightened she was by the carter’s words. She had the feeling that some powerful force beyond the comprehension of mere mortals had heard her conversation with the Doctor and decided to trifle with her. She had already sensed - no, known - for weeks that something very wrong was going on in their home on the edge of the world. She had to find Dottore and torment him until he finally believed her. She smiled (even though there wasn’t anything to smile about).

“Thank you for telling me about it,” she replied calmly. “I will try to find out more about this strange creature.” Noticing the warning look on the man's face, she added quickly, “Of course, I will be careful.”

Fyodor looked a little calmer. He breathed a sigh of relief and returned her smile.

“See you later, Bianka,” he said. “I hope we will have the chance to see each other again. In the meantime, I wish you all the best both in your work and in your dealings with Lord Dottore.”

The man gasped in surprise when, without any warning, Bianka locked him in a firm embrace.

“Goodbye,” she muttered in a voice muffled by the fur collar of his jacket. “Your smile always makes me want to chuckle myself. I will miss it very much.”

At these words, Fyodor barked out a laugh, embraced Bianka and hugged her so tightly that he squeezed all the air out of her lungs. Not wanting to stop him any longer, the woman waved goodbye one last time and left the stable. As soon as she was out of the servants’ sight, she broke into a run through the forest. She had no idea where she could find the whimsical Harbinger when he wasn't in his laboratory. She decided to reach the villa and ask Rodion – he had been in Lord Dottore's company much longer than she had, so perhaps he would know his habits.

She hasn’t reached the gloomy building, however. Being halfway to the villa, she heard a dull thud that a hollow piece of wood makes when hit with something blunt. She stopped and started listening. After a while, the sound repeated itself. Her innate curiosity told her to find out what was causing the noise. The clatter brought her to a forest clearing that had been covered in sand and compacted. Wooden training dummies stood and lay on its edge. Some of them looked new, others bore numerous cut and blow marks. Various weapons, from wooden clubs to swords or halberds, were stored in one place. In the middle of the clearing, in front of an already heavily battered mannequin stood with his back to her Lord Dottore himself. His coat and sapphire shirt had disappeared somewhere, replaced by a loose white tunic. His shoulders lifted with each heavy breath, and his outfit clung to his sweat-wet body. The man let go of the rod with which he had basted the puppet until now, and a moment later a powerful claymore materialised in his hands. It was a beautiful weapon with a matte black handle, a slanted hilt and a steel-grey blade that, if angled properly, emanated a delicate turquoise-blue glow. Dottore raised the weapon and came at the dummy. Bianka hesitantly stepped closer.

“Doctor...”

She was interrupted by a crack so loud that she felt vibrations running through her body. The sheer force with which Dottore attacked the dummy managed to practically pound it into the ground. Bianka couldn't believe her eyes when, after a few more frightening blows, all that was left of the dummy was a pile of splinters. Up to this point she had only met the Doctor in the laboratory, so she assumed (wrongly, apparently) that the only power he possessed was an above-average intellect combined with an enormous amount of knowledge. She had never before noticed his vitality, lightness of step and well-built body. She realised that Lord Dottore was not only an unparalleled genius, but also a respectful warrior. For the first time, she felt something like regret mixed with fear at the thought of how small and frail she must look in his eyes.

‘He's so strong, I'm sure he'd tear the churls’ camp to pieces all by himself,’ flashed through her mind.

The Harbinger dismissed the claymore, which disappeared in a brief, blinding flash, then walked over to a simple wooden bench to wipe his face with a towel and drink some water. Having emptied the entire cup in one gulp, he said without turning around,

“How long are you going to stand there?”

Bianka flinched as if she had been electrocuted. She kicked her heels and approached the resting medic.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb your training… Doctor,” she muttered. The man waved it aside.

“I’m used to the presence of other training people; your visit makes no difference to me.” He stretched, then glanced at her with his healthy eye. “So, do you have some business with me, or did you just come to stare?”

Bianka didn't even want to know how red her face had turned in that moment.

“S-stare?” she repeated in a strangled voice. Dottore looked at her askance.

“And what are you so surprised about? It is natural for animals, including Homo sapiens, to judge the value and attractiveness of an individual of the opposite sex on the basis of their strength and self-confidence.” Having said that, the Doctor tensed the muscles of his arms and chest, and it was so unnatural for him to do so that the researcher was completely stunned. Some part of her, very small, but nevertheless very present, wanted to ask if Dottore was “judging” her in this way too. However, a much larger part felt that she had to change the subject as quickly as possible.

“Fyodor is leaving for the palace today,” she choked out. The Harbinger furrowed his brows. At first, a thought crossed her mind that the Doctor felt annoyed at hearing another man's name come out of her mouth. But then she realised that she had let her imagination run wild and that Dottore simply did not know who she was talking about. “The coachman. The one who drove us here.”

“Oh, yes, I remember,” he replied. He stroked his chin. “And what about him?”

Bianka told him about the strange noises that Fyodor had heard during the night. If she had concentrated more on Dottore's face, she would have noticed that with each passing sentence the corners of his mouth lowered and his eyebrows furrowed more and more.

“… and that's why I believe it should be checked in case it turns out that…”

“Enough!”

Bianka moved away, frightened. The Doctor rose from the bench and measured her with a stern look.

“That's the last time I'm telling you this, Bianka. There.” He took a step towards her. “Is.” And another one. “No.” And another. “Beast!” He stomped hard against the compacted sand. The researcher moved further away and watched him timorously. Dottore could not see her eyes, which were still hidden behind the mask, but he could still feel the waves of fear, sadness and grief flowing from her. She was deeply hurt by his behaviour and complete downplaying of what she thought was a serious problem. The man sighed heavily and squeezed the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “Listen, Bianka. You said this morning that you’d slept badly, didn't you? Being tired makes you more susceptible to certain emotions, such as sadness, anger or fear, especially if you are also hungry. It's lunchtime, so we'll go and eat something now and then you can go back to your place and do some reading, knitting or whatever calms you down for the rest of the day. What do you say to that?”

Bianka didn’t reply. She nodded stiffly and wordlessly followed Dottore to the villa, where a table was already set on the porch. Moments later, dinner was served. The woman ate with a sour face, for Dottore didn’t find it necessary to refresh himself before the meal – when asked, she would reply that he definitely did not smell of daisies at the moment. The smell, coupled with the standard noises of smacking and slurping, gave her an acoustic-olfactory experience. The Harbinger himself tried to keep her occupied with conversation, telling her about his research, complaining about the insularism and unreliability of Snezhnayan scientists, and repining over Lord Pantalone, who had been increasingly refusing to fund his ideas lately (“A few weeks ago, when I was sending requests almost every day, he sent me an envelope containing a single coin and a short note saying, “Try to manage!” Would you believe such impudence?! That stingy magpie..."). Bianka guessed that this was a way of distracting her from her disturbing thoughts. ‘And rightly so,’ she mused, for Lord Dottore had definitely not been helping her with her daily worries as of late. Pleasing her with conversation was the least he could do to make up for the constant grumbling, humiliation and threatening he exposed her to every day.

After finishing her meal, the Doctor repeated his recommendation that she rest in the hut. Bianka agreed with him, said goodbye and followed the path leading to the cottage. However, as soon as the edifice of the mansion hid behind the trees, she turned abruptly towards the stable. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she felt that this time Dottore was right – her unease was most likely due to the exhaustion and strong emotions she had experienced before, during and after the battle and therefore she should not push herself any further. The medic's attitude, however, so agitated her that she wanted to go against everything he urged her to do. She knew it was a childish behaviour, completely unbecoming of a Harbinger’s assistant, but her resolve was too strong to yield to rational reasoning. She would go to the place indicated by Fyodor and look for signs of the mysterious being if only to prove that she was not a weak, helpless, panic-stricken woman.

Having reached the stable, she circled it and looked around. At first glance, nothing seemed suspicious to her - the ground wasn’t covered with tracks, there were no signs of claws, teeth or antlers on the bark of trees, and the branches of small bushes were not broken. The surrounding area looked peaceful and safe. Fyodor, however, swore to gods that some disturbing sounds, which only a really big creature could make, had woken him up that night. Bianka had no reason to believe that the carter was lying; nor did he look like a man who would be frightened by a slightest sound of a forest life. Determined, she walked a few dozen metres more, then stopped in a place where the vegetation was rapidly thickening. Trying to move silently, she pushed away the branches of bushes and young trees. Before her appeared something like a path that wild animals used to move around while remaining unnoticed. She scanned the ground with her eyes. The litter was a little churned, it was also covered with numerous hoofprints, but nothing else. Out of the corner of her eye, however, she saw something that stood out from the green of the plants. Bianka stepped onto the path and walked towards a small blackthorn bush, on the branch of which hung a piece of fur – some animal must have rubbed itself against the plant's thorns. The woman looked at the finding. The fur had a light grey colour with a few darker hairs and was quite stiff. She tried to smell it, but all the scent had already vanished. It was the only trace she was able to find.

‘Maybe it really was wolves,’ she thought dispiritedly. She had approached the bushes to return to the hut when she heard something that froze the blood in her veins. It was a whining or perhaps a whimpering sound made by animals that were very frightened or in agony. She hesitated for a few seconds, but quickly made up her mind. With her heart pounding rapidly in her chest, Bianka approached the source of the squeaks. As she passed an unusually lush field of ferns, a sight so sad and macabre appeared before her eyes that she had to cover her mouth with her hand to keep from screaming. Behind the ferns, hidden under the roots sticking out of the ground, lay a young deer. It could not have been more than a year old. The animal was panting heavily and its muzzle was covered with foam. It raised its head and began waving it from side to side, but the rest of its body remained motionless. When it caught sight of Bianka, it whined shrilly and began to thrash even more forcefully. Then she noticed it. Below the deer's scruff was a deep wound, sticky with clotted blood. She saw with disgust that flies and other insects were moving around its edges. The animal’s body bore no other lacerations and yet, despite its obvious terror, it didn’t get up and try to escape, but only squealed and waved its head helplessly. It was then that the researcher realised that the bite – for it could not have been anything else – was so powerful and deep that it had managed to sever the deer's spinal cord and thus completely paralyse it.

Bianka would like to be able to say that when she ran as fast as she could through the forest, she did so in order to get help for the poor animal or at least to inform anyone of her finding, but that wouldn’t be true. She was so terrified that she might share the deer's fate that she bolted without a second thought. Out of panic, she didn’t even know where she was running. All she could think about was to get as far away from this cursed place as possible, maybe reach the lake, take the raft to the town, and return from there to the Main Research Institute, to Eymen and her friends. Just when she thought she'd manage to escape, she hit something hard. When years later, she recalled the pitiful shriek that came out of her throat that day, her face burned with embarrassment. She closed her eyes, waiting for the sharp teeth to clamp down on her throat and take her life as easily as a man blows out a candle flame. Nothing of the sort happened, however. Daring to finally open her eyes, she saw Lord Dottore's face contorted in absolute astonishment. The man was holding her arm tightly (she didn't even know when he grabbed her) and looking at her in disbelief. Bianka was breathing heavily with her skin drenched with sweat, her hair in disarray and bulging eyes. The Doctor's gaze gained depth (if she hadn't been so terrified, she might have seen a glimmer of concern in it). He pulled her close and squeezed tightly.

“Oh, Bianka,” he whispered soothingly. “What a skittish chicken you are…”

Gradually, the researcher regained control of her breathing and relaxed her tense muscles. Fear was replaced by a deep fatigue. She rested her head against the Doctor's chest and closed her eyes. The man, however, did not let her fall asleep. He moved away, grabbed her forearm and pulled.

“Come,” he murmured, then followed the path, with the researcher trotting clumsily behind him. Bianka tried to tell him about the horrifying discovery, but because of the shock, she was unable to rig even a single sentence up. He led her back to the laboratory, dark and gloomy when unoccupied. The unpleasant smell had managed to evaporate almost completely, leaving only the barely perceptible scent of sulphur. Dottore directed her to a corner of the main room, where a now deactivated panel had been built into the wall.

“Wait for a second,” he instructed. A moment later he returned with a low stool, which he placed in front of the device. “Sit here, facing the screen.”

Bianka was so confused that she obeyed him without hesitation. The Doctor put one hand on her shoulder and pressed a few buttons on the panel with the other. The screen shone with a white light and then dimmed, showing them a layout of the estate's grounds. She saw the laboratory building, the villa and even her own cottage, but it was the few straight lines surrounding the whole area that caught her attention. The medic took another contraption out of his pocket (Bianka remembered that Kalina - the girl who had taken care of her after the seizure – carried a similar object with her), pressed a button and said,

“Rodion, it's me, have one of your men come up to the fence, no matter where, and tap it a few times.”

A brief, “Of course, my lord,” came from the walkie-talkie, after which the sound stopped. Dottore stood behind Bianka, squeezed her shoulders and leaned over her.

“You'll soon see why your fears are wholly unfounded,” he said.

For about two minutes nothing changed. The screen continued to flicker with a soft glow and the device itself buzzed quietly. Suddenly, without warning, a siren roared through the laboratory and the whole room flashed with red light. Bianka was so startled by this unexpected change that she reflexively leaned over and covered her ears with her hands. She felt Dottore move away. A few seconds later, the howling subsided as abruptly as it had begun. Stunned, she raised her head and looked around the room. The man returned to her side and pointed to the screen, where one of the hitherto blue lines had turned red.

“I invented this sensor so that I always know who enters or leaves my home, where and when,” he explained. “It is able to detect even the slightest movement within the fence’s length. Nothing, I repeat, nothing is able to get on the other side of it without my knowledge,” he concluded emphatically.

Bianka continued to stare dully at the screen. His words managed to reassure her a little, but she knew that not all passages were so well guarded. Otherwise Dottore would have been aware of where she had been for the last two days.

“Come with me, I have something else for you.” The man helped her up from the stool and pulled her towards a row of wall cabinets. He opened one of them and, grumbling under his breath, looked for a moment at the medicines inside. Finally, he took out two bottles and led the woman out of the laboratory. He set off down another path, and after a few minutes, Bianka realised that they were heading for her hut. Once inside, Dottore seated her at the table and began to boil water for tea. He then sat down opposite her and showed her the two bottles that contained the unfamiliar pills. He slid one of the containers to her.

“This is a mild sedative,” he explained. “It will help you fall asleep and rest peacefully through the night. A healthy body degrades this medicine quite quickly, so you shouldn't feel any tiredness in the morning.”

“You want to drug me with something?” Bianka replied with some scepticism. Dottore snorted in exasperation.

“Don't be so dramatic. If you take them for a week, nothing will happen to you.”

The woman still didn't look convinced, but said nothing. The Doctor slipped her a second bottle. A proud, self-satisfied smile bloomed on his face.

“This, on the other hand, is a small gift from me. I have managed to slightly modify the composition of your old medicine. This way, if you take one pill a week, you will get the same effects as if you took the previous medicine twice a day.”

Bianka bulged her eyes and glanced at the bottle once more. For someone suffering from her affliction, this was a truly precious gift. She was surprised that the Harbinger had managed to find some time between his endless experiments to spare her a moment or two. She smiled lightly, feeling genuine gratitude. With a quiet, “Thank you, Doctor,” she took the bottle and put pocketed it. After a moment of hesitation, she did the same with the sedative. She sensed something soft in her pocket, but before she had time to check what the unknown object was, the whistle of the kettle sounded. Dottore poured water into two cups in which he had prepared the tea earlier, then set them on the table. Having sat down sideways to Bianka, he crossed his legs and picked up the vessel.

“Cheers!” he exclaimed and took a sip of tea. Instantly, the medic choked, spitting in disgust. Seeing Bianka's questioning look, he explained, “I don't really like tea. Coffee is much better, the kind from Sumeru,” and bared his teeth. The researcher huffed quietly, then began to drink herself. Recalling the item she had felt in her pocket, she pulled it out, realising it was a mysterious tuft of fur. She must have hidden it when she started to run away, or maybe even earlier. She showed it to the medic.

“Do you happen to know what kind of animal has fur like that, Doctor?” Bianka asked. The man took the fur, looked at it from several sides and, having taken off his glove, checked its texture.

“Wolf’s, in my opinion,” he concluded, handing the strand back. She took it without a word.

****

Evening came. After Dottore took his leave, Bianka finished cleaning the hut and busied herself with what always gave her solace – reading (‘If this goes on, I'll have to buy more books,’ she thought). Now she sat on the edge of the bed, washed and changed into her pyjamas, and measured the bottle with a sedative with her eyes. A less trusting part of her mind told her not to take the drug. After all, there was no label, and she couldn't be sure of its efficacy, let alone its side effects. However, the rational voice in her head countered that the Doctor had no reason to lie to her about the remedy's mode of action, and by giving her the medicine, he wanted to make sure she would be rested, calm and able to work in the morning. Besides, Bianka feared that if she forwent the medication, the Beast would come back and turn her gentle dreams into tormenting nightmares. Having made up her mind, she took out one tablet, swallowed it and drank some water, then lay down on the soft mattress and covered herself with the duvet. She stared at the dark ceiling, tracing the curved lines and knots adorning the spruce planks, until her drug-fogged mind drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

Two weeks have passed since the incident with the deer. During this time, neither Bianka nor anyone from the service had come across any traces of the mysterious creature, either ordinary or more macabre. The researcher was fine with that – she didn't have the slightest desire to stumble upon yet another frighteningly mutilated animal. Both drugs received from the Doctor did their job; the restless dreams were gone, and Bianka herself woke up each day rested and in a good humour. Her mood was also improved by regular trips to the town. She had already been there several times, visiting friends, sitting in a tavern, poking around in shops or simply strolling through the narrow streets. With each new day, Siniy Glaz felt more like home and its inhabitants – like her new family.

The next day of her visit was today. Bianka has been beaming with joy and excitement since early morning. Not even Lord Dottore's grumbling could dampen her content. However, if she were to be quite honest, she felt that the Harbinger had not the slightest reason to complain about her – she had worked hard and efficiently all day, obeying all orders without discussion. As soon as four o'clock struck, she packed up her things and headed for the exit.

“See you tomorrow, Doctor.” She waved her hand. “I wish you fruitful work.”

“Goodbye, Bianka.”

His voice was suspiciously altered – quieter and more serious, while his penetrating eyes bore into the researcher's back as she left the laboratory. However, due to her growing excitement, she didn’t notice anything. Having left her lab coat and mask in the hut, she made her way to the beach and from there down the river on her trusty raft. She was no longer afraid of rough water, as she had become familiar with all the turns and obstacles on her path. When she reached the familiar beach, she tied the raft to a nearby tree and ran through the forest, only to find herself several minutes later between the lodges of Siniy Glaz. It was late afternoon, so most of the residents had finished working and were resting, breathing in fresh air or gossiping with friends.

“Oho, who my eyes are seeing here?!” A wide grin bloomed on the woman's face when she heard Timur's welcoming shout. Right next to him Kira walked with a confident step. No matter how much the boy would complain about his friend's harshness and inflexibility, Bianka knew that they actually enjoyed spending time together. The researcher herself was of the opinion that they were a good match – Kira was able to check his adventurous but reckless nature, while Timur's outgoing character and charisma could crumble the layer of cool logic and unemotionality with which his companion tended to surround herself. The woman hugged them both in greeting.

“Nice to see you again. How’s it going?” she asked with concern. “Nobody has bothered you anymore?”

“Not at all, we gave them such a beating last time, that they won't dare show up until next winter!”

Bianka laughed, seeing Timur's enthusiasm. Kira shook her head affectionately.

“If I remember correctly, you were lying on the ground with a wound in your side for most of the battle,” she remarked. “Indeed, an extraordinary hero you are.”

“Hey! It's not my fault that Witold set that hilichurl on me!” he defended himself. Bianka giggled again.

“I hope that at least your grades are better than your battle skills.”

“Don't worry about that,” Kira interjected. She gave Timur a dirty look. “I will keep a watchful eye on him.”

“For Archons’ sake!” he exclaimed in exasperation. “They both have it in for me, those devils!”

The friends strolled down the streets of the town, chatting as if they had known each other since childhood. On the way, they stopped at a bakery, where the smiling Maria gave them so many pretzels, biscuits and sweet buns that the paper bags were bursting at the seams. Loaded to the limit, they thanked the baker and headed to the main square, where they sat down on one of the benches. While they were busy digging in to the point of nearly losing consciousness, another familiar face appeared before their eyes.

“Hello, Bianka,” Mikhail greeted. The woman bowed politely. “I'm glad you've come to see us. I hope these rascals aren’t bothering you?”

“Oh no, of course not!” she replied quickly. “Friends are to be treasured, their company is never a problem for me.”

The mayor nodded approvingly.

“How is your uncle?” he asked suddenly. “I trust you are both in good health?”

A barely perceptible shiver ran down Bianka’s spine. She smiled kindly.

“Grumpy as ever, but otherwise as fit as a fiddle,” she said.

“Excellent, say hello to him for me. I won't bother you any more, have fun. Just don't eat all the cakes at once, or you'll get sick,” he warned them and left.

“By the gods, he's such a stiff…” Timur said.

“Mr Mikhail is not a stiff, he just cares about us,” countered Kira. The boy snorted.

“You should start a “Stiffs Club” together, you'd win the competition for the most boring gathering in Teyvat.”

Kira kicked him in the ankle, at which he let out a stifled groan. Suddenly, he straightened up.

“I’ve just remembered that I’ve left something at home,” he said in an unnatural voice. “I'll get it and come right back.” He ran off down the alley, throwing clouds of dust into the air. Kira sighed.

“For the last few days Timur had been strangely mysterious. I think he has a present for you.” She rose. “I'd better keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn't come up with something stupid. We'll be back in a few minutes.”

Bianka lifted her thumb and smiled. Kira moved to follow her friend, leaving the researcher alone. She took a bite of the still-warm bun and cast her eyes around the square. Besides her, there were several other amblers strolling here and there. Some she knew only by sight, with others she had fought side by side in a recent battle. She decided to approach and say hello, when she heard a quiet “hist!” coming from the narrow alley next to her. At first, she thought that the hiss was just a figment of her imagination. But then the mysterious stranger called her by name.

“Bianka!” they whispered. “Come here for a moment.”

She knew she had heard this voice somewhere before, but she was unable to associate it with anyone. With curiosity and slight anxiety, she approached the alley’s exit.

“Hello?” she called out uncertainly. “Someone's…”

She didn't manage to finish. The stranger grabbed her arm and pulled her into the darkness, their other hand covering her mouth before she could get her bearings. Startled, she dropped the bag of sweets and jerked in their grasp. She felt her attacker's warm breath on her cheek as they whispered,

“Is it funny for you to sneak out like that without my knowledge or consent?” Bianka felt like she was struck by lightning when she recognised Lord Dottore's deep and menacing voice. “A smart woman you are, since you managed to bypass my safeguards, however, don't think I'll let you off the hook. I will ensure that these excursions come to an end.”

The panic slowly engulfing the researcher's mind prevented her from thinking logically. How on earth had the Doctor found out about her visits?! She always took care to slip away unnoticed, and return when it was already deep twilight outside. Sometimes she had the feeling that the Harbinger could read her mind.

Still covering Bianka's mouth, the man pulled her deeper into the street. Five minutes later, Kira and Timur returned to the square; the boy was carrying some sort of rectangular object. Not having found the researcher waiting for them, they started looking for her and calling her by name, but unfortunately in vain.

“Where has she gone?” Timur wondered. He looked at the frame he was holding. “I wanted to give her this picture as a gift. I painted it myself.”

Kira didn’t reply. She stared at the dropped paper bag from which biscuits and cakes were spilling out. She furrowed her brows in deep thought.

****

Bianka and Dottore were heading along the main road to the estate, surrounded by endless forest and deep silence. The medic had long since taken his hand away from her mouth – no one would hear her screams anyway, even if she howled at full volume. Bianka was also aware of this. What's more, she suspected that the Doctor's sinister aura would have effectively scared off any potential saviours. Instead, she tried to yank herself out of his grasp, but to no avail; even the weakest of the Harbingers bettered her in strength by leagues, let alone the second of them. ‘Besides, where would I supposedly run to?’ she mused, at the same time fully aware of how hopeless a situation she found herself in. Having given up any fight, she walked docilely by his side, afraid to say even a word lest she make the Doctor's already dire mood even worse.

“You're probably wondering how I knew where to find you,” Dottore broke the silence. “Kalina spotted you last time she went into town to run some errands and decided to let me know about it. She's a good girl, I’ll give her a rise. Contrary to someone.” The Doctor squeezed her shoulder tighter. Bianka hissed quietly in pain, but bowed her head with remorse.

“How did you manage to slip away unnoticed?” he questioned her. The woman remained silent. Instinct told her not to mention the secret passage. It could end badly for her, especially if Dottore considered withholding such significant information an act of betrayal. “I’m also curious as to how many times you have managed to go to town behind my back. When were you going to tell me about it? Probably never, eh?”

The Harbinger tugged on her arm and once even swatted her on the head. Bianka forcibly kept herself from bursting out crying.

“You're silent,” he finally said. “Doesn’t matter, I’ll make you tell me everything.”

He didn’t say another word. Bianka was both relieved and extremely anxious. To say that she was terrified would be a major understatement. She prayed to all the gods she knew, to be able to get out of this situation with her life.

Faster than she would have liked, they reached the metal fence of the estate.

“Open the gate!” roared Dottore, frightening poor Bianka even more. The gate moved with a loud rasp, only to stand open a moment later, letting the owner into his property. At first, the researcher wasn't sure what Lord Dottore was going to do with her. However, after a few minutes, as they reached the familiar pathway, she realised that they were heading to the laboratory. Having stepped inside, she suspected that shouting, threats, maybe even beating will start now. However, the man was still silent. Without letting go of her arm even for a second, he passed the workbenches, the storages and Bianka's workroom and dragged her further towards the lonely door at the end of the corridor. Suddenly, a terrible, horrible premonition pierced her.

“W-What is going to happen to me now?” she asked in a weak voice.

“We had an agreement,” he answered firmly. “Do you remember our nightly conversation in the forest? Or do I have to remind you what was going to happen if you slipped out again without my knowledge?”

And then Bianka understood.

She wasn't just done for.

She has charged into the shit at full speed.

She felt the adrenaline buzzing through her veins. She clenched her free hand into a fist, swung and, using all her strength, hit the Doctor in the temple. The man screamed in surprise and involuntarily loosened his grip. Bianka managed to pull herself free, then dashed towards the exit. She was struck by an eerie feeling of déjà vu. She remembered how, at the very beginning of her work at Lord Dottore's side, she had run away from him through the same corridor. This time, however, the stakes were much higher. She reached the door and, without looking back, dashed outside. She heard the Harbinger's quick footsteps behind her. With a feeling of relief, she realised that he was too far away to be able to do her any harm. Suddenly, a loud screech pierced the air, and a moment later something cold and hard hit her on the back of her head. It felt as if a hundred bells rang in her head at once. She fell to the ground and, with the force of momentum, slid a metre across the sand. The impact completely stunned her. She still wanted to run away, but every time she tried to get back on her feet, she felt strong dizziness and tumbled again. All she could do was lie on the hard ground and await her execution. She closed her eyes. She could hear the Doctor's unhurried footsteps slowly approaching her lying figure. Finally, his tall, elaborately decorated shoes came into her field of vision. He tutted, clearly displeased.

“You act like an animal, fleeing from deserved punishment, instead of taking the blows of the whip proudly and with your head held high.” He tutted again. “This attitude is not befitting of a person with such a high position as yours, Bianka.” He picked her up from the ground and threw over his shoulder, before moving back into the building. “Let me tell you something. If you already decide to break the rules, break them firmly and explicitly. And if someone catches you doing so, don't cower like a mouse under a broomstick, but look your tormentor square in the eye, without losing faith in yourself and your own convictions.”

Even through the haze of stupefaction, Dottore's words made quite an impression on Bianka. She had a strange feeling that there was something more behind them. The Harbinger had spoken them with too much certainty and confidence in their validity to have been invented on the spot. For the first time, she began to wonder about the Doctor's past. What life decisions had ultimately led him to take the position of the Second of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers? Did he ever think back to the past? Or had he always just looked ahead, recognising myriad opportunities and making the most of them? She silently hoped that one day Dottore would answer these questions for her.

‘As long as I survive the next few hours,’ went through her mind.

The medic carried her into the operating theatre and placed her on the table on her stomach. After immobilising her arms and legs with straps, he began to grabble her neck.

“Are you really going to replace my brain with a potato?” slipped out of her mouth. All the adrenaline had managed to leave her body, which seemed as heavy as lead. The Doctor chuckled.

“Let's say I'll give you one more chance,” he replied. “However, as I have already mentioned, I can't let you wander around without my knowledge.”

Having picked a spot on her neck, she heard him say, “Here will be fine,” and then, he walked over to a tall wardrobe and changed his distinctive overall to one of his usual lab coats. He also removed his gloves. After that, he pulled a few items from nearby cupboards and drawers; Bianka couldn’t tell what exactly, as Dottore took care to cover them with his own body. Having gathered everything he could possibly need, the medic returned to his patient. She heard a snap of rubber gloves being put on and a clank of medical instruments, but was unable to turn her head enough to observe the man's actions. He clamped his hand on the back of her neck, preventing her from making any movement. A moment later, she felt that awful, terrible and unpleasant, yet so familiar pain. The Doctor could cover her eyes, plug her ears and confuse her mind, but she would still recognise the hated sensation of a needle piercing her skin. She jerked hard in her fetters and growled angrily. Dottore snorted.

“I've almost forgotten what a spitfire you are in close encounters with the needles,” he said. “Nevertheless, I guarantee you'll appreciate this solution much more than if I hadn't given you any local anaesthesia.”

“Anaesthesia?” she repeated weakly. The Doctor hummed affirmatively.

“Now hush, I need to concentrate.”

After a few seconds, an annoying tingling spread on her nape, followed by a numbing sensation. If she had been able to touch the area she was interested in at that moment, she would have experienced the peculiar sensation that her skin is seemingly dead and didn’t belong to her. Dottore pinched her hard next to the injection mark and, seeing the lack of any reaction, muttered with satisfaction.

Throughout the procedure, Bianka loosened her grip on reality from time to time. She didn’t know whether this was due to stress, shock, fatigue, a blow to the head, or perhaps some other substance that didn’t have to, but could have been in the anaesthetic. She tried moving her head experimentally, but realised that she was not able to – the agent had managed to paralyse her muscles as well. Alternately losing consciousness and awakening from lethargy, her senses registered individual sensations. First her attention was drawn to something warm running down her neck, before Dottore removed the fluid with a cotton swab. At another time, she felt an uncomfortable but painless stretching that passed after a while. Finally, she fell asleep for a while longer, letting him tinker with her body without a fight, when she was awakened by a sudden kick, as if she had been electrocuted. She shuddered and looked around as much as the leather straps would allow. Dottore was sitting at his desk, completely absorbed by the device he was holding. It was similar to the screen, which showed the plan of the estate. The man was changing the settings of the device with the help of buttons and knobs, muttering under his breath and licking the scar on his lip, which, Bianka noticed a while ago, was a sign of absolute concentration. Again, she felt the eerie hit. This time she jerked, hissing in pain. The Doctor turned his head slightly.

“I'm nearly finished, I'll let you go in a moment,” he assured. “Try to relax for a few more seconds.”

A moment later, he gave a satisfied purr. At first, Bianka sensed no change, but as she sharpened her senses, a barely audible buzzing sound came to her ears. Dottore walked over to the table, undid the straps and helped her to her feet. The woman wobbled, feeling the dizziness returning, but the medic held her firmly. Everything pointed to her surviving the confrontation with the Doctor after all. She lifted her hand to touch the nape of her neck and see what her superior had come up with. She felt a rough texture of a clean dressing, before Dottore grabbed her arm and lowered it to her side.

“Don't play with it or I'll be forced to put a collar on you,” he threatened. “The wound needs to heal properly.”

“What… what did you do to me?” she mumbled. The Harbinger smiled enigmatically. Instead of answering her question, he suggested,

“How about we play a little game?”

A red light suddenly lit up in her brain. She didn't have an ounce of trust in this idea.

“What game?” she asked with suspiciousness. Dottore put his hand on his chest in a false act of resentment.

“Truly, Bianka, your lack of faith in my innocent suggestion is hurtful,” he replied. “I just wanted to play hide and seek, it's such a trivial and safe game. You know it, don't you? All the children are crazy about this play!”

Slowly, the fog clouding her mind began to thin. Bianka had her suspicions about what remedy the Doctor had come up with to be one hundred percent sure, which paths she was treading.

“Don't look at me like that. I've seen how stressed out you were, a few rounds of friendly game should help you relax.” ‘Mhm, surely,’ she thought. “I'm going to count to a hundred, and in the meantime, you can hide somewhere the grounds of the residence. You have several hectares of forest at your disposal; you can also hide inside the buildings.”

“On such a large area? You'll be looking for me all day, Doctor!”

The man chuckled.

“Give me a chance, dear. My position as the Second of the Eleven Harbingers is not a matter of chance. The skills I have acquired over the years may yet surprise you.” Bianka squinted at him, not believing his words. Finally, she nodded. Dottore smiled vibrantly. “Excellent! In that case, I'll start counting.”

The Doctor turned away and covered his eyes, meanwhile Bianka ran out of the room and into the open air. She stood in the middle of the path and began to think feverishly. ‘Where to hide? How far away to run, so he won't find me?’ Before, she had not found it necessary to ponder such a trivial matter. But now, as the clock ticked away, she felt increasingly more jittery. Then a clever idea popped into her head. Dottore had said that she could move all over the area, so he most likely suspected that she would look for a hiding place somewhere far from the lab. But what if she stayed nearby? That kind of thinking could confuse him. As a wise saying went, the darkest place is under the candle.

Bianka circled the building and crouched in the bushes right next to the wall behind which the surgery was located. She tried to look through the branches, but the vegetation was too dense. ‘That's good,’ she came to a conclusion. ‘No one will notice me here.’ With her heart beating hard and fast, she strained her hearing to notice when and if anyone would approach her hiding place at all. A minute passed, then two, and nobody appeared. She was already beginning to feel the satisfaction of having thought about such a cunning hiding place, when suddenly the bushes parted abruptly, revealing none other than Lord Dottore’s smiling face.

“Clever, Bianka, but you'll have to try harder if you want to trick me,” he said.

“Impossible!” she exclaimed, standing up. “You couldn't have found me so quickly!”

The man tilted his head innocently.

“I warned you that my skills might surprise you.”

The researcher growled indignantly, crossed her arms and ostentatiously turned her back on him. Dottore cooed teasingly.

“Oh, someone here is clearly throwing a tantrum.” He massaged her shoulders and whispered in her ear, “Let's try again. Now I'll count to two hundred.”

Bianka snorted again. Sniggering, the medic took a few steps away and started counting a second time. This time she already had an idea where to hide. She ran as fast as she could down the path to the villa and disappeared inside. The mansion was really big, and what's more, it had many rooms, nooks and crannies – the perfect place to hide. Unfortunately, she didn't know the layout of the rooms too well, as she rarely visited. However, she knew that the same applied to the Doctor; the villa was more of a display of wealth and a high position of the host in case of the arrival of possible guests. Bianka ran upstairs and stood in a corridor leading to several unfamiliar rooms. She looked experimentally into one of them. She saw a nicely furnished, albeit rather gloomy guest room. It was well furnished – it had a spacious wardrobe, a fireplace, in front of which a coffee table and two armchairs were placed, and a large, seemingly comfortable bed, standing just below the window. She also caught sight of another doorway leading presumably to a private bathroom. Nevertheless, the lack of decoration, stark style and black dominating other colours made the room seem somehow repulsive. The woman shook her head. ‘Now’s not the time to pout,’ she rebuked herself. After carefully closing the door behind her, she walked across the soft carpet to the other side of the room. Having lied down on the floor, she crawled under the bed and turned so that she could watch the entrance to the room at all times.

Minutes passed without any trace of the whimsical Doctor. In fact, from her position under the bed, she couldn't hear any sounds coming from the corridor, not even the distant voices of the servants.

‘It is as if the whole building had died out,’ she mused.

After another five minutes, feeling that she couldn't bear to wait idly any longer, she decided to take a quick peek down the corridor before returning to her hiding place. Slowly, she crawled out from under the bed and ran to the door. Cranking it open a few centimetres, she spied her surroundings through the resulting gap. She saw nothing that could in any way indicate anyone's presence – all the doors were locked, there were no traces of shoes on the floor and not even the slightest murmur disturbed the silence. She decided to lean out a little further when she felt something soft gently caress her cheek. Her nostrils were hit by the distinctive smell of mint mixed with resin.

“Surprise!” she heard a cheerful whisper.

Frightened, Bianka jumped away, slamming her shoulder against the door frame. Groaning and rubbing the sore spot, she looked up at the Doctor who was smiling from ear to ear.

“How...?” she sputtered in disbelief. Not even once she’s looked away – she was convinced that it remained closed. Dottore didn’t answer. Instead, he looked meaningfully into the room. Bianka followed his gaze and drew in the air loudly. The window, previously closed, now stood open and the bedspread was slightly crumpled. For a moment, an absolute silence ruled over the room.

“How long?” she muttered. The man shrugged his shoulders.

“About ten minutes.”

The woman couldn’t believe her ears. Dottore had climbed up the wall of the villa to the first floor, entered the room through the window and lurked on the bed right above her! She was amazed at his resourcefulness. In addition to his smartness and strength, which allowed him to get from outside to a high place without any problems, he was able to move silently like a cat. A cat hunting a poor, defenceless mouse. It was not difficult to guess who played the role of the mouse in this game. The Doctor stroked her head and asked gently,

“One more try?”

The researcher felt rage boiling inside her. She hissed straight into the Harbinger's face and rushed out of the room. Accompanied by his thunderous laughter, she ran down the stairs to the ground floor and out onto the porch. Here, she stopped and, unable to contain her anger any longer, let out a shrill bellow. Panting heavily, she mumbled under her breath,

“That flea-bitten, self-righteous bastard! He thinks he can do anything he wants, that pest! I’ll wipe that smirk off his insolent face!”

Once she let all her bitterness out, she took a few deep breaths to calm herself down. She had to think of another place to hide, and fast. The last few times she tried to hide in tight places with limited visibility. She already knew that this option was not ideal. She had to climb somewhere higher, from where she could watch the approaching Harbinger before he could see her first.

She ran deeper into the forest. She won’t hide in any particular place. She will simply pick some tree that is reasonably easy to climb and hide in its crown. That way, Dottore won't find her without resorting to cheating. Eventually, she came across a twisted spruce whose bark was criss-crossed with knots and deep grooves. She quickly climbed as high as its branches would allow and crouched close to the trunk in anticipation. The only sounds interrupting the peaceful silence were the birds’ chirping and the gentle whispering of the wind. The world was bathed in golden rays of the setting sun, crossed here and there by steadily lengthening shadows. The luscious green of the July day began to give way to the eventide. After a while, however, this uniformity of colours was cut by very distinct hues – the blue of the clear morning sky and the pristine white. Bianka observed Lord Dottore intently as he approached her spruce tree – she registered how carefully he took his next steps, hid himself in the shadows of surrounding trees and bushes, and paid attention not to let his long coat hook on protruding branches. The man passed her hiding place, but instead of proceeding further, he stopped and began to look around. If she wasn’t sure before, if the Doctor somehow knew the locations of her hiding places, now she had not the slightest doubt about it. The man, having searched all around, stopped near her spruce tree and slowly raised his head. As soon as he saw the disgusted expression on Bianka's face, he bared his teeth in a smile.

“Got you!” he exclaimed boldly. Exercising caution, the woman descended the tree and stared at him askance. Dottore could have sworn that he noticed the cogs turning in her head as she analysed his actions in depth. Gnashing her teeth, she finally gave her verdict,

“A tracking device.”

The medic's smile became almost manic.

“Bingo!” he boomed. “You're a clever girl, although I thought it would take you less time to solve this puzzle.”

Bianka narrowed her eyes angrily.

“Who gave you permission to perform this procedure!” she growled. “It was a direct interference in my body, which I did not consent to. I could sue you for disrespecting my autonomy, Doctor!” Bianka spat the word out, as if the very sound of it made her nauseous. The Harbinger tilted his head and barked out a laugh.

“Do you think anyone would dare accept your charges,” he replied, “if the price for it were their own heads? Oh, Bianka, how naive you are. Someday life will teach you that those who hold half of the world in their hands are virtually untouchable. Also, as usual, you over-dramatise. This useful widget has more merit than you suspect.”

“Oh yes? And how could it possibly help me?” she snarled defiantly.

“Let me explain. The purpose of this device is not only to track a particular individual. It is also to keep an eye on their physical health. From time to time, it will perform a quick scan of your body, paying special attention to the presence of pathogenic microorganisms and incipient inflammation. This way, I will be able to start your treatment before any symptoms appear. What's more, the instrument also reacts to any mechanical trauma, such as injuries or fractures. It means that, should you ever get into trouble, I will be able to come to your rescue. Do you understand my motives now?”

Bianka was taken aback. She still couldn’t swallow the violation of her basic rights, but she felt that the Doctor had done it as much for his own peace of mind as for her own good. More than once she had to rely on the helping hand of others to get her out of trouble, and having such a powerful ally as Lord Dottore could bring her unexpected benefits. And besides, does she really have any choice?

“Of course, if you possess the determination to rip out the device yourself, then be my guest,” he added. Bianka scowled. The Doctor was well aware that her desperation was not that great. Knowing she was not going to win this battle, she sighed.

“Alright, have it your way,” she muttered resignedly. “However, I would ask you to inform me the next time you want to interfere with my body, Doctor.”

Dottore bowed and put his hand on his heart.

“You have my word on that,” he promised. The researcher didn’t believe him for a second, but she knew she couldn’t expect more. The medic glanced upwards, where more and more stars twinkled with each passing second. “I think that's enough fun for today. Go back to the hut and rest, it was an eventful day. I'll see you tomorrow in the laboratory.”

Dottore walked away in an unspecified direction, leaving Bianka alone in the darkling forest. A shiver went through her body – she preferred not to stay here any longer than was necessary. She trotted between the trees, however not to the cottage, but towards the villa. She had one more thing to do. Once inside, she began to search through the rooms on the ground floor. She found Rodion in the dining room, finishing his dinner. He looked at her in bafflement.

“Good evening, Bianka” he greeted her. “It is unusual to meet you here at this hour.”

“Sorry to interrupt your meal, but I need your help,” she said. Rodion immediately turned serious.

“What can I do for you?” he asked.

“Have you ever seen a river flowing out of a lake? Not the small one that runs through the estate, but the one that stretches all the way to the foot of the mountain. If you walked along its current, you would come across a small beach; you can get there via a path leading from the town through the forest. There should be a raft lying there. It is very important to me and I would like to recover it, but I cannot go there myself. Could you give this task to someone from the service? I don't need it at the moment, the people you select can take it when they are in the village for errands. Do you think it’s doable?

Rodion furrowed his brows in thought. He had no idea from where Bianka had got the raft, let alone how it had ended up a few hundred metres downstream, but working in the house of one of the Harbingers had taught him not to poke his nose into matters that did not concern him.

“I'll see what I can do,” he assured her. The woman sighed with relief.

“Thank you, Rodion, I owe you a debt of gratitude,” she said. After a moment she added, “I would have one more request. Don't tell the Doctor about this. I would get into quite a mess, if he found out.”

The old butler swore that his leaps will be sealed. The researcher thanked him profusely, then returned to the cottage. She was slightly afraid that she wouldn’t get her raft back after all, however, a few days later, when she left the hut in the morning, she saw her pride leaning against one of the walls with a note stuck to the corner of the board. The message read,

Dear Bianka,

we managed to find your lost raft exactly where you said. I must admit that I’m impressed with your DIY skills. Guard your treasure like the back of your hand. Don't worry about “The Raven,” I'm sure he doesn't know anything.

Sincerely,

Your Devoted Servant

Feeling her heart grow in her chest, the researcher folded the note, put it carefully in her trouser pocket and headed for the lab with a smile.

Chapter Text

A few days later, the world was shrouded in a thick, almost tangible fog. Not even the rays of the July sun were able to pierce it. When Bianka opened the door of the hut in the morning, a milky white wall appeared before her eyes.  She stood rooted, not knowing how to react. Experimentally, she stretched out her hand, which momentarily drowned in the cloud, disappearing from her sight. ‘This doesn't bode well,’ she thought. She had to get to the lab somehow, and this treacle-like fog would make it much harder for her. Nevertheless, she took the first step beyond the safe threshold of her home – she wouldn't let some insolent cloud block her path. On the contrary, walking through the fog could be exhilarating. She was reminded of the stories of travellers and globetrotters, traversing underground caves and abandoned ruins. Their adventures always took her breath away. Bianka decided that, if she ever got bored with her job as a scientist, she would join the Adventurer's Guild.

However, she was quickly brought back down to earth. The fog seemed to press in on her from all sides, as if it wanted to squash her into the forest path. The path itself was barely visible; Bianka was forced to walk bent over at all times so as not to lose sight of it. She took slow and careful steps, glancing around from time to time (unfortunately, the fog didn’t look as if it wanted to dissipate, and the only thing the researcher was able to see was the tip of her own nose). Despite her efforts and every precaution, she must have taken a wrong turn, because out of nowhere a spruce trunk sprang up in front of her. She was certain that no trees grew on the forest path leading to the laboratory. She turned her back on the trunk and tried to return along her own tracks. She walked a few, then a dozen, then several dozens of steps, but the path was gone. Finally, after ten fruitless minutes of searching and walking in circles, she had to admit to herself that she was lost. A shiver of fear went down her spine.

‘Lord Dottore is going to kill me,’ she mused. She didn’t have a watch, however, she felt that she was already late. She paused, stopping her search, and pondered. She could choose the direction where she thought the laboratory was, or she could stay put and wait for the Doctor to arrive. She involuntarily touched the scarring spot on her neck. Dottore changed her dressing every day and assessed, whether the wound was starting to fester. He also showed her the tablet that was connected to her transmitter – she was depicted on it as a red dot. When the medic additionally pressed the “TRACK” button, the image was centred exactly on the dot. For the rest of that day, Bianka walked around with an offended face and stubbornly refused to exchange any words with the Doctor. Since then, she has been very careful not to wander into any forbidden place. She had to halt her outings into the town and even swimming on the lake – she wasn't sure what kind of reaction she could expect from the Harbinger, if he spotted a red dot in the middle of a nearby body of water.

Bianka furrowed her brows. She could already imagine the look on Dottore's face, when he comes to her rescue like a knight in shining armour. She wondered if he himself would lose his way in such a thick fog. Perhaps his mask had some kind of special sensor or scanner built into it? She had already learned that nothing was impossible for Lord Dottore, and she could expect even the most unbelievable and unconventional solutions from him.

She decided that she would at least try to get closer to the laboratory to reduce the shame and embarrassment at the thought of getting lost in a place she had traversed several times a day. She began to walk metre after metre, trying to find any point that would tell her, where she actually was – a lone boulder, a forest stream or twisted trees were all welcome. Having walked a kilometre or so, she was ready to finally give up when something dark loomed in the mist in front of her. Feeling a surge of hope, she walked closer. When the fog parted enough for the blurred shape to come into focus, she stood up and took a better look at the building. At first, she felt a slight letdown, as it was not the laboratory she had hoped to find. ‘I guess I need to work on my sense of direction,’ went through her mind. But then her sadness gave way to curiosity. She was sure that she had never seen this building before. It was about the size of her hut, resembling it in appearance, as well. The only noticeable difference was the material of which it was built – stone, unlike Bianka's wooden hut.

Her interest piqued, the woman stood next to the front door. Pressing down the handle, she was pleased to find that it was open.  Feeling a thrill of excitement, she stepped inside. To her eyes appeared a large and cluttered to the limit room. It seemed to take up most of the available space; at first glance, it resembled a combination of an office, a bedroom and a living room with a kitchenette. Against the wall furthest from the main entrance stood a haphazardly made bed, next to which a desk drowning in documents, blueprints and notes was placed. Behind the desk, separated from it by a narrow corridor, was a bookcase filled with thick books, old scrolls and filled cahiers. Next to it, she spotted a small fireplace (in her mind, placing a fireplace next to a bookcase full of flammable paper was not a good idea), in front of which stood a dark blue armchair and a coffee table. She noticed that the armchair was covered in a substantial layer of dust, as if it had not been used for a long time. The walls above the desk and bed had been fitted with extra shelves for even more books, as well as cork boards, which she could distinguish only when she unhooked a few drafts and drawings from them. Between the fireplace and the small kitchenette was another door, presumably leading to the bathroom.

As she approached the desk, she saw a beautiful leather notebook the colour of the sky after dusk lying among hundreds of sheets of paper and folders. Unable to contain her curiosity, she turned on the lamp, sat down in a chair and opened it. Nowhere did she see a signature, but when she flipped through a few pages, her heart began to beat faster. She read a fragment of the entry,

… I advised against it. Unfortunately, my recommendations were not heeded. Columbina's “singing” destroyed half of the windows on the second floor of the north wing. Pantalone assured me that he would reward me lavishly, if I took care of the matter. I will send out Segment No. 7, he should be able to deal with a couple of windows. On the other hand, this segment has a bit too much energy for such an arduous…

Bianka paused her reading. She looked around the room once more, paying particular attention to the wealth of documents and plates, the barely made bed and the dusty armchair. She smiled mischievously.

She had managed to find Lord Dottore's house. 

She was profoundly surprised. She had always thought that the Second Harbinger lived in a villa or some other unfamiliar residence. Meanwhile, her powerful boss occupied a cottage not much bigger than her own hut. She shook her head, smiling affectionately. It was typical of the Doctor to live in a sweatbox himself, while dedicating one of the most spacious and conveniently located buildings to a lab, where he could carry out as much research and experimentation as his soul desired.

Leaving the notebook on the desk, she took another stroll around the main room. Maybe snooping around someone's house without the host's knowledge was nosy, but Bianka didn't think she was doing anything inappropriate. Dottore had also barged into her cottage several times, whether she wanted it or not. In her opinion, she was only collecting what was hers. She walked over to the kitchenette and began to rummage through the cabinets – she was curious as to what the Second Harbinger had a liking for. With some disappointment, she noticed that most of the drawers were completely empty. Of the dozen or so shelves, only three bore signs of someone’s presence. On the first, she found a half-empty packet of crackers, while on the second stood a vial full of some kind of murky liquid. Bianka realised that the Doctor must have once conducted an experiment at home, the result of which was the substance present here. He had probably put it on a shelf in the evening and forgotten about its existence the next day. She decided not to touch the vial, in case the liquid turned out to be something dangerous.

In the last cupboard she found an undistinguished first aid kit. ‘It's quite uncommon to keep a first aid kit in a kitchen cupboard,’ she thought. She took it out, placed on the counter and carefully opened the lock. Instead of rows of pads, gauze swabs, rubber gloves and surgical sutures, a sweet, familiar scent crept into her nostrils. Having opened the case all the way, before her round with astonishment eyes appeared three rows of evenly arranged chocolate pralines. Anyone could tell at first glance that these were no ordinary chocolates. Each of them looked like a small work of art – they differed from each other in colour, shape, decoration and most probably also in filling. All that was left of three of them were empty cavities. Bianka felt an overwhelming urge to sink her teeth into one of the remaining ones, but her instincts told her that this was not a good idea; there were only a dozen pralines, Dottore would easily notice that their number had, for unknown reasons, decreased by at least one. The woman didn't have a desire for another confrontation, so she closed the first aid kit with slight regret and put it back on the shelf.

‘A packet of crackers, a vial full of unidentified liquid and a box of pralines,’ she concluded. ‘If it weren’t for the dinners the servants put under his nose, he would have starved to death here.’

Having satisfied her curiosity, Bianka returned to the desk. Only then did she notice a round, flat object lying on a pile of books. She grabbed it and took a closer look. It looked like a very old badge or medal, with its shield so worn that it was virtually impossible to distinguish specific shapes. Squinting her eyes, she managed to see the outline of some kind of animal, but she couldn’t tell what kind. The medallion itself had lost the majority of its colour; most of the paint had flaked off, revealing the smooth wood. From what she could tell, however, before time and atmospheric conditions had left their mark on the badge, it must have been a silvery colour.

‘It had to match his hair pretty well,’ she thought.

She sat down at the table again and slid his notebook closer. Unlike the notepads in which the Doctor used to record the course of his research and reports on his various experiments, this one seemed to be his personal diary. Bianka understood that she was holding an extremely valuable treasure in her hands – in addition to its sentimental value, the cahier contained notes about the other Harbingers and even accounts of meetings with Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa. She didn't even want to think about the consequences, if the diary got into the wrong hands. Instead, she opened it at random, coming across a note that caused a storm of mixed feelings within her,

… she didn’t deign to tell me that she was an epileptic. There is no mention of the illness in her files either. That bunch of brainless idiots couldn't even do a single examination properly.

It seemed that Dottore didn’t fail to write about Bianka as well. The thought that she had proved important enough to him to have memories of her immortalised in a diary made her heart grow warmer. It seemed, however, that the Doctor had not spoken very kindly of her,

The New Assistant went into the woods at night, almost paying for it with her life. I'm not sure why I even rescued her. I don't need employees who cause more trouble than they help. I'm giving her one more chance; if she shows stupidity and insubordination again, I'll get rid of her.

When she read the last three words, an unpleasant shudder went through her body. This must be the record of their journey from the Main Research Institute to Siniy Glaz. Not wanting to think about it any longer, she hastily flipped a few pages and read the most recent entry,

… I found her strolling through the streets of the town with two villagers. I feel obliged to say this: Bianka Snezhevna is incredibly stubborn, feisty and has managed to infuriate me on more than one occasion, but even I have to admit that she is a shrewd woman. I have yet to discover, how she managed to bypass all the safeguards, and this is already a sign of something. I think that, apart from the work in the lab, she is competent enough to handle espionage and intelligence gathering. I’ve never suspected that I would come across such a specimen among my scientists.

This time, a delicate blush covered her cheeks. Compared to the previous entry, this one looked as if its author was someone completely else. Apparently, at some point in their coexistence, the Doctor's attitude towards her must have changed diametrically. She quickly flipped through a few pages backwards, hoping to find the day when the breakthrough occurred.

Suddenly, a hand clad in a navy blue glove appeared in her field of vision. Bianka cried in pain when, quick as a whirlwind, it slammed the notebook down, crushing her fingers in the process. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a second hand moving towards her exposed neck. Already feeling fingers brushing her skin, she fell out of the chair, rolled across the floor and quickly got up on her feet, facing her attacker. When he was enraged, Lord Dottore could look truly terrifying. All of his muscles were stiff and taut to the limit. His shoulders rose and fell rapidly to the rhythm of his heavy breaths, and his clenched teeth were exposed in a grimace of absolute fury and hatred. Bianka couldn’t see his mask-covered eyes, but she suspected that they were flickering from the violent emotions that were gnawing at him. The Doctor's entire demeanour could make anyone anxious, but what ultimately planted fear in her heart could not be seen with the naked eye. The man exuded an eerie, sinister aura that she had never encountered before, even when he found her in the town. She remembered reading once about small amphibians that inhabit the rainforests of Sumeru. Their unusually bright colouration was supposed to warn predators of the deadly poison present in their skin. Dottore was giving her a similar signal at the moment: “Don't come near me or you won't survive this.” It was then that Bianka realised the nature of this petrifying aura – a primal, unadulterated bloodlust was emanating from the Harbinger.  

“How did you find this place?” he hissed venomously. “Who gave you permission to enter here?”

Bianka tried to answer, but her throat tightened against her will.

“I… didn't…”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” he said in an ominously low voice, then began to move slowly towards her. “You snuck in here, swept through my house and read my private records. You won't get away with it this time. You will pay me for your nosiness!”

At the same moment his shiny claymore appeared in Dottore's hands, Bianka rushed through the open door. She didn't even think where to run to, she just dashed ahead as fast as her untrained legs would allow. The fog had managed to partially thin out, so that the danger of running into a tree or bush was greatly reduced. Unfortunately, it also meant that the Doctor could see her better. She could hear the dull thumps of his boots against the soft earth behind her as she manoeuvred between the spruce trees, trying to lose him. Suddenly, a loud screech rang in her ears, and a moment later the bark of the tree she had just run past splintered to the four corners of the world. As she glanced over her shoulder, she saw some sort of cylindrical, tapering object hovering right next to Dottore's head. The weapon flashed with blue light, emitted another screech and fired a projectile that brushed the researcher's hair and exploded on a nearby boulder.  She sped up. She couldn't let the Doctor catch her again and subject her to new procedures.

‘Or torture…’ she thought, swallowing her saliva nervously.

****

About a kilometre away, Rodion had just finished eating his lunch. Having eaten the last bite, he wiped his mouth with a handkerchief and got up from the table, taking his empty plate with him. As he headed for the kitchen, he looked out of the window at the vast forest. His attention was drawn to a single wisp of smoke, disappearing in the low clouds. A moment later, it was joined by another one. He was watching this unusual phenomenon with interest when suddenly one of the spruces shook violently, then began to tilt in slow motion before finally collapsing with a loud crack audible even in the residence. Rodion knew very well that only one person in the whole of Siniy Glaz had the power to blow down an overgrown tree. He also inexplicably felt, that Lady Bianka was somehow involved in this. He breathed deeply, and continued his walk. He had not the slightest doubt that the clever researcher will handle this minor conundrum perfectly.

Bianka, meanwhile, managed to speed up and thus increase the distance separating her from the Doctor. She could still hear his footsteps and heavy breathing, but his silhouette was drowning somewhere in the mist. Taking advantage of the veil separating them, she stopped abruptly and hid behind a nearby fir tree. She forced herself to calm her breathing as quickly as possible so as not to accidentally betray her presence. She heard Dottore also draw to a halt and, without making any sound, he listened. They stood like this for several seconds – the longest several seconds in Bianka's life so far. Finally, the crunching of woodland litter and a quiet singing reached her ears,

“Where are you hiding, dear Bianka?" he crooned. “Don't run away! Come out of your hideout and play with me.”

She decided to poke her head out slightly from behind the trunk. Dottore, still clutching his claymore, was looking in the opposite direction and observing the vegetation. He was far too close for her to feel safe. Silently, she crouched down and picked up a fir cone. Watching Dottore's actions, she leaned out from behind the tree, swung and threw it to the right of the Harbinger. The cone hit the trunk with a sharp clack. The man's head snapped in the sound’s direction, but contrary to Bianka's intention, he didn’t come closer. Instead, he stood still, listening for more sounds. The researcher became nervous.

‘Move, you nasty, overgrown bird!’ she yelled at him in her mind.

After a few seconds of waiting and trying to control her growing fear, Dottore finally stalked towards the place from where the thud came. Watching him, Bianka couldn't help but admire the gracefulness with which he moved. As he took one confident step after another, his torso stood completely still. The man looked like a deadly predator, preparing to pounce and clamp his sharp fangs on the prey’s neck. While he was busy rifling through the bushes, Bianka moved away from the tree and hid behind another one a few metres away. Patiently hopping from trunk to trunk, she managed to get far enough to scurry towards freedom without attracting the Doctor's attention. She knew, however, that it was only a matter of time before the man came across her trail. She had to find a way out of this stalemate quickly, lest the medic catch up with her and hang her head over the long-unused fireplace.

Feeling like a quarry, Bianka finally arrived in familiar territory. A crystal-clear stream flowed lazily just ahead of her, exactly the same one that ended in the lake. This directed her thoughts to the mountain passageway. It was possible that the secret isthmus was her only chance of getting out of the estate grounds. Perhaps she could run to the town and ask for help? She knew that as long as she didn't get rid of the implanted transmitter, Dottore would still find her, even if she hid on the other side of the world. She was sure that someone in the village was acting as a physician and would be able to get that filthy thing out of her neck. On the other hand, Lord Dottore would surely guess who had given her a helping hand. Bianka would never forgive herself, if any of the settlers suffered because of her. Either way, her paramount goal at the moment was to leave the Harbinger’s territory. She would consider her next step later.

Having reached the beach, she pulled out the hidden raft and put it into the water. Pushing off with strong, learned movements, she swam quickly away from the shore. The fog had finally cleared, allowing her to see exactly where the isthmus began. When she was about halfway across, she heard the distant crunch of boots on the gravel. She turned her head and saw Dottore standing just off the shore. The man was so astonished that he let his claymore drop from his hand. Bianka stopped swinging her paddle and returned his stunned gaze. There was absolute stillness all around; not even the lake’s ripples were disturbing its surface. The woman didn’t take her eyes off the medic, expecting his fury and frustration. However, nothing of the sort occurred. This time, it was Bianka's face that took on an expression of shock as Dottore smiled and began to chuckle, only to burst into thunderous, hearty laughter a moment later.

“You wanted to build yourself a bench, yeah?!” he roared. “And I offered you my help! Not nice, Bianka, not nice at all!”

Bianka had no idea how to react. Should she take flight, remain motionless, return to the shore, or perhaps start laughing along with the Doctor? The man's mood was so unpredictable that she was unable to choose the safest option for herself. Before she could make a decision, the cackle stopped and Dottore looked at her with a cheeky smile.

“Your creation has aroused my curiosity,” he said. “Do you mind if I take a closer look at it?”

Without waiting for her answer, the medic took out some kind of round, ornamented object of a light blue colour. Bianka bulged her eyes. Was that a Vision? She had never noticed one of them being attached to the Doctor's attire before. The woman squinted and looked at it more closely. She recognised then, that there was something wrong with the globe – it didn’t emanate any inner glow, on the contrary, it was kind of faded. Suddenly, a familiar cylindrical weapon appeared on either side of the Harbinger, however, instead of pointing it at Bianka, they began to send ice projectiles towards the lake’s surface. On contact with the water, the icicles exploded, freezing a small area around them.  Dottore set foot on the newly formed surface and shifted his body weight onto it. The ice cracked quietly, but managed to withstand the pressure. The man smiled broadly, crossed his arms behind his back and began to take slow steps towards the researcher. Bianka was so engrossed in watching this display that it took her a moment to realise the danger.

‘Bloody hell, he's coming here!’ flashed through her mind. She adjusted her grip on the paddle, spun around and began to move away from the Doctor. It was imperative that she increase the distance separating them. If she persevered long enough, Dottore would get bored and leave her alone.  Suddenly, the raft shook violently. When she looked back, she saw that one corner of her vehicle was frozen, as was some of the water around it. She could still move, but the extra weight prevented her from steering properly.

“Where are you going?” came his amused voice. She realised with terror that the man had already covered half the distance separating them. “Don’t you know that it is not polite to turn your back on your interlocutor?” He tutted with feigned displeasure. “I think I will to have to give you a lesson of savoir-vivre.”

With horror and helplessness painted on her face, Bianka stared at the approaching medic. The only option left was to jump into the water. She suspected, however, that she wouldn't have swam far before ending up as a human icicle. ‘Stupid, stupid, stupid!’ she rebuked herself. ‘What's got into you, to snoop around the Second Harbinger's house?’ The Doctor, on the other hand, was having a great time, watching his assistant's reactions with keen interest. The woman looked frantically from side to side and then, having found no way out of the situation, stood stiffly and waited for her ultimate doom. Finally, Dottore stood before the raft and, after a moment's consideration, stepped onto it. The raft wobbled and tilted slightly, but didn’t sink. The man stopped right in front of the researcher and looked down at her, showing his sharp teeth. He reached out his hand and gently stroked her cheek. A quiet cackle escaped from his throat.

“If only you could see your expression, Bianka. It is absolutely priceless,” he murmured. The woman was already opening her mouth to reply when the Doctor pulled her close, so that their bodies contacted, and put a finger to her lips. “Ah-ah-ah, now I'm talking. I promised you a lesson, didn't I?”

He pointed the weapons back at the water’s surface next to the raft. More bullets froze a considerable area of the lake. Dottore put his hand on Bianka's back and guided her onto the ice. When they reached the middle of the makeshift rink, he stopped and turned to face her. He placed one of her hands on his shoulder and closed the other in his own. His right hand rested on her lower back. The woman inhaled sharply.

‘Is he going to teach me… to dance?’ she wondered. The Harbinger smiled meaningfully and took the first step, leading her to the beat of the music that only he heard.

“Lesson one: your boss is your master. When he tells you to do something, you do it without thinking about the morality and potential consequences of this act.” He spun her gently, then continued, “Your master is wiser than you and knows what is best for everyone.” He inclined his head towards her. “And you certainly don't talk back to your superior and question his decisions. Because otherwise,” he moved even closer, “there might be some… clash.”

Suddenly, Bianka felt an unbearable pain in her left foot. Glancing down, she realised that Dottore had pressed the heel of his boot into it with all his strength. As he pulled away, she saw a round indentation on her shoe. She gritted her teeth but said nothing. The medic smiled innocently and guided her to do a pirouette.

“Lesson two,” he continued, “when your boss provides you with a roof over your head, sustenance, warm clothes and a chance to educate yourself, then you have no reason to give it all up. That's why we don't run off into the wilderness ‘because I had a caprice,’ but we sit politely in place." The woman felt Dottore's hand wander under her blouse and stroke her back. A shiver ran through her entire body. On the Doctor's face appeared a false expression of concern. “Your master wants the best for you. How do you think he would feel, if he saw the half-dead body of his dear assistant, blue from the permeating frost?”

All of a sudden, upon contact with Dottore's fingers, her skin prickled from searing cold. It felt as if icy needles were piercing her back and sucking all heat out of her. She clenched her teeth but was unable to hold back a quiet moan of pain. Bianka involuntarily scooted towards the medic, trying to escape his frigid touch. The man smiled deviously.

“And lesson three: remember to always respect someone's privacy. That is, do not spy on your superior by breaking into his house. Your master keeps important documents and personal items there, that you don't have access to. And for good reason – some of the information they contain could make your head spin!”

Having said that, Dottore began to rotate Bianka faster and faster. After a moment, the sharp contours of the world blurred into a colourful streak. Completely disoriented, Bianka began to scream, trying with all her might to stay on her feet. She no longer knew, where right or left, up or down, was. She heard a loud chuckle, and then, he let go of her and pushed her across the ice. The surface was so slippery that she couldn't come to a stop. A second later, her world tilted, she saw the sun shine above her, before the freezing water surrounded her. Spluttering and coughing, she managed to pierce the surface and, still suffering from strong vertigo, looked up at Lord Dottore, who had not stopped laughing.

“One last lesson,” he choked out, “if you break any of the rules and end up in the lake like a wet hen, you get to swim to the shore.”

The researcher spat out a gulp of water and shook her head. Instantly, an overwhelming desire to retaliate grew in her chest. She couldn't let him off! She swam to the edge of the ice and called out,

“Doctor, I have to tell you something!”

Dottore tilted his head in curiosity.

“What is it?” he asked. Bianka said something, but too quietly for him to hear. He furrowed his eyebrows in exasperation. “Louder, Bianka!” She repeated, but again, her words were carried away by the wind before they could reach the Harbinger's ears. The man growled under his nose and walked right up to the edge of the ice. “What’s going on?”

He leaned lower so he could hear the message better. Bianka was just waiting for it. With a satisfied smile, she jumped out of the water, threw her arms around Dottore's neck and pulled him back down. Dottore wobbled, did a hundred-and-eighty-degree flip and fell headfirst into the water with a loud splash. For a moment, all she saw was a mass of bubbles where the medic had disappeared beneath the surface. Seconds later, his head shot up into the fresh air. Somewhen in the havoc, his mask fell off, showing his scarred face in its full glory. Long hair clung to his forehead, cheeks and neck. Dottore snorted, blowing the water that had entered his nose, and rubbed his eyes. When he was finally able to lift his eyelids, he stared at Bianka, who was smiling from ear to ear, with a stunned look. The woman howled with laughter and placed her hand on his cheek.

“If only you could see your expression, Doctor. It is absolutely priceless,” she teased. Dottore's eyes got as big as saucers. The only reason she was still alive was that the medic had never yet encountered such insolence from a subordinate and had no idea how to act. Looking at his bewildered expression, she wondered, if her prank had caused him some sort of shock.

“You…” he mumbled, but before he could say anything more, the woman splashed him with water again.

“Now I am not the only one who is going to swim back!” she exclaimed. Dottore finally managed to snap out of stupor and gazed at her with evident fury in his ruby eyes.

“You insolent, little…!” This time it was he who sent a wave of water in her direction. Bianka gagged, but the Harbinger didn't let up – he attacked her until she began to defend herself. Their battle quickly turned into an unexpected play. They drenched each other with water, ducked one another and leapt at each other from beneath the surface, their laughter and shouts carrying far across the forest. She didn't know how long their frolic lasted, but she was convinced that they won’t get much work done today. With each passing minute spent in the lake, Bianka was gritting her teeth harder and harder. Finally, Dottore noticed this and ordered end of the game.

“You’re about to freeze in here, and we wouldn't want that, would we?” he said. “Let's go back to land.”

The man dived, and after a while he emerged with the lost mask in his hand. Without looking back, he started swimming towards the shore, but then he was stopped by the researcher’s voice,

“A-and what about my r-raft?”

Dottore halted, noticed her pleading look and turned his gaze to the still-frozen transport. He sighed heavily.

“Do you need it that badly?” he asked. Bianka didn’t answer, but her eyes told him everything he needed to know. Grumbling under his breath, he swam over to the raft and pulled himself up onto its deck. Summoning his claymore, he struck several times against the blocking ice, which began to crack rapidly. Under the strong, precise blows, the shackles relented, at which Bianka purred with satisfaction. Dottore jumped back into the water and positioned himself at the furthest from the shore edge of the raft.

“Come on, B-Bianka, let's push it together.” The Doctor, too, was beginning to feel the cold penetrating him to his very bones and wanted to find himself on dry land as soon as possible. Bianka obeyed and after a while they were swimming shoulder to shoulder towards the beach. When they reached the shore, water poured out of their clothes as if from a waterfall. The woman pulled the raft further away from the waves and, shaking like a jelly, returned to the medic's side. The man looked at her blue lips, then grabbed her by the arm and pulled her through the forest.

“W-we need to warm up q-quickly or we will get hypothermia,” he communicated. “Fortunately, I h-have an idea.”

Dottore turned the fast march into a run to further warm up. Despite the difference in the size of their steps, Bianka did not lag behind. The Doctor led them to the villa; together they dashed inside, panting heavily. Rodion heard their arrival and came out to meet them. One glance at their damp hair, soaked clothes and shivering bodies was enough for him to get an idea of the situation.

“I'll have servants prepare the sauna,” he informed them, then walked away with a quick step. Bianka's eyes bulged.

“W-we have a s-sauna here?” she managed to grind out. Dottore didn’t reply, but a satisfied smile formed on his face. A minute later, the servants appeared and led them to separate changing rooms so they could take off their dirty clothes. They assured them that they would all be washed as soon as possible and would be ready by tonight at the latest. Bianka gratefully stripped naked and wrapped herself in a soft towel. For a few seconds she merely stood there, savouring the scent and the warmth it offered. After that, she entered the dark, hot sauna and sat down on the bench with a blissful sigh. Black coals filled the room with their heat, so that she soon felt all the cold of the lake leave her. After a while, Dottore also joined her. He had managed to tame his hair somehow, which was now fluffy and soft. Apart from the towel tied around his waist and his beloved earring, he was as naked as a newborn baby. He slumped heavily on the bench opposite Bianka and stretched out comfortably.

“Well, how is it, Bianka? Are you feeling better?” he broke the silence. The woman nodded shyly.

“Indeed,” she replied, at the same time surreptitiously glancing at the Doctor's trained body. Apparently, he felt no shame at the thought of showing himself in skimpy clothing in someone else's company. Bianka was glad that he was able to use his innate confidence (and narcissism) in this way. She always felt sorry for people who disliked their bodies so much that they refused to even look at themselves in the mirror.  She didn't think he had anything to fear anyway – he was well-built and his dark, scarred in places skin was smooth. Dottore noticed her stealthy glances and bared his teeth.

“You like what you see?” he asked teasingly. Bianka blushed.

“No… I mean yes, I mean…” she began to flounder. Dottore chuckled and sighed.

“Relax. If I didn't wish you to look at me, I wouldn't come here.”

Bianka took a deep breath and calmed her thoughts. A comfortable silence descended in the sauna. Dottore closed his eyes, soaking up the heat, while the researcher stared at the glowing coals. There was still one thing that wouldn’t give her peace of mind. She gathered herself, then muttered,

“Doctor?” He opened one eye to let her know he was listening. “I wanted to apologise for my little indiscretion. It wasn’t very wise of me, invading your home like that. I promise it won’t happen again.”

Dottore smiled gently and nodded.

“I believe you and appreciate your apology.” He mused. “In a way, the fault lies somewhat with me too. If I had finally locked the door, you would have had no way to enter. Since they were practically standing open, you might have gotten conflicting signals.”

Bianca was surprised. She had not suspected that the Doctor could show so much remorse as to admit his mistake. Thinking more deeply, she came to the conclusion that, the longer she worked for him, the more often he astonished her. Dottore was eccentric, quite rugged and had his moods. However, she had to admit to herself that she had grown fond of him.

‘What have you done to me, Doctor? Have you brainwashed me?’ she thought with a strange tenderness. Just then she felt his gaze on her. As she glanced in his direction, she realised that Dottore was smiling, and in his eyes, apart from amusement, was sparkling something she could not quite name. Suddenly, she felt hot, and not because of the coals.

“What?” she asked, concerned. The man shook his head.

“Oh, Bianka, Bianka, you're going to be the death of me,” he said, without explaining further. The woman wasn't sure whether his words were meant to make her feel embarrassed, or whether they were an expression of appreciation. However, the tone of Dottore's voice suggested the second option. “Tell me what you found in my abode. I need to know if I should start looking for a potato, or rather leave your mental faculties untouched."

Bianka laughed, hoping inwardly that it was a joke, and began to relate to him her adventure.

Chapter Text

When Dottore realised that Bianka had found his first aid kit stuffed with pralines, he turned his face away in embarrassment.

“But you didn't eat any, did you?” he asked, concerned. Bianka smiled gently.

“Don't worry, they're all safe and sound…” she replied. Dottore breathed a sigh of relief. Then she added, “… or at least the ones that haven't managed to end up in your belly yet.”

The Doctor made a face again and crossed his arms ostentatiously.

At his request, Bianka described what she had managed to find out from the diary. Having listened to her words, the Harbinger nodded – he didn’t seem concerned by her newly acquired knowledge. Encouraged, she tried to find out more about the mysterious “Segment No. 7,” but each time she steered the conversation to a topic of interest, Dottore pretended not to have heard the question and quickly diverted her attention. Nevertheless, the researcher did not lose her spirit; most likely, this knowledge was not yet available to her.

‘Yet,’ she emphasised in her mind, smiling discreetly.

****

The next two weeks were exceedingly busy, but also peaceful. At night, Bianka was not tormented by any nightmares, and during the day, the good mood never left her. Dottore also seemed to be uplifted. He was more and more willing to use the researcher's help, what was taking its toll on her health, however. She was notoriously tired and lacked the strength to take care of her own projects or spend warm afternoons actively. Despite this, she was glad that their relationship had improved so much. As a result, working alongside the Second Harbinger was beginning to bring her joy.

The day when their almost idyllic time was about to end began like all the others. Bianka dropped a toolbox on the ground and wiped sweat from her forehead. The Doctor rummaged inside, took out a wrench and then, humming an unfamiliar song under his breath, leaned over the open flap of a machine. The woman stretched and looked at the medic with tired eyes.

“Doctor,” she began. The man murmured in acknowledgment, “don't you think we've been working really hard lately?”

Dottore froze, then turned and eyed her curiously.

“What do you mean?” he asked slowly. Bianka shifted on her feet.

“I mean… don't you think we've been working a bit too hard lately?”

The Harbinger burst out laughing and looked at her mockingly.

“Do you think what we're doing here can be called 'hard work?'” he answered the question with one of his own. “You'd better not tempt me, Bianka, or I may yet show you what an idyll your life has been so far.”

The woman decided that if the constant stress, life-and-death situations, the implantation of the transmitter without her consent and the escape from the furious Doctor were “idyllic,” she didn't want to know what Lord Dottore thought the “bugger” was. The man leaned over the robot again.

“Screwdriver,” he ordered, extending his hand. Bianka handed him the tool.

“You know, I've heard that overworking yourself results in a decrease in productivity and morale,” she continued. Dottore hummed again.

“Is that so?” he drawled. “That's interesting. Have you found a solution to this very serious problem?” He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. The woman gathered all the courage she had and muttered,

“I think that a moment’s rest would be a good idea. A day off, for example, would be perfect for regaining energy and the willingness to work.”

Even before she had time to finish, a chuckle came from Dottore's throat, followed by a loud cackle. He looked at her with a knowing grin.

“Oho, have you lost all enthusiasm so quickly? Where did your endless curiosity about the world go, hm?”

Bianka grimaced.

“It's in its place,” she replied. “But lately I have been lacking in strength. I hit the wall every day, so it's no wonder my vigour has waned. I'm not like you, Doctor, I can't work several hours a day and feel rested.”

The Harbinger shook his head condescendingly, drew her close and gently stroked her hair.

“Someone here is throwing a tantrum,” he cooed. Bianka was already readying herself to spit out a few unpleasant words, but Dottore beat her to it. “Alright, alright, there's no need to be upset.” The researcher was fully ready to debate on the subject. “Unfortunately, I'm afraid a day off is out of the question. As my extremely annoying… partner says, time is money and should be fully utilised. But how about getting some sleep here in the next room? You've been sending me off for invigorating naps, I think it's your turn now.”

Bianka pulled herself out of Dottore's grasp and grumbled angrily. Of course he wouldn't listen to her advice, in that matter he was as stubborn as a donkey. Stuffy, she walked away towards the makeshift bedroom, escorted by the Doctor's laughter.

“Such is the life of a scientist, Bianka,” he exclaimed. “We will work here until death knocks on our doors!”

At that moment, a bell sounded in the room. Still sniggering, Dottore put on his mask and walked towards the servants' door. On the other side, he was slightly surprised to see a serious-looking Rodion and a young man he didn’t recognise. He furrowed his brows. The butler rarely appeared in the laboratory in person.

“Good morning, Rodion. What brings you here?” he asked, feeling a growing nervousness. The man bowed.

“Lord Dottore, I bring important news,” he replied. The stranger fidgeted restlessly, clearly avoiding the Harbinger's gaze. The older of the men cleared his throat and informed briefly, “Lord Pantalone has decided to pay a visit.”

As if by magic, all of Dottore's merriment burst like a soap bubble. He glared at Rodion, then at their guest, who must have been the messenger, unable to get a single word out.

‘Pantalone? Here?’ he mused. ‘What is this walking purse looking for here?!’

“And for what reason, if I may ask?” he continued angrily. In a few long strides, he found himself in front of the messenger, grabbed him by the shirt and raised him to his eye level. “Why is he coming? I didn't invite him!”

The boy squirmed slightly, but, unlike many of the other Fatui members the Doctor had dealt with, he didn't look frightened, just frustrated.

“Forgive me, my lord, but Lord Pantalone has not revealed the purpose of this visit. He only ordered me to inform you of his imminent arrival.”

Dottore gritted his teeth.

“When?” he threw in the boy’s face.

“Tomorrow before noon, my lord.”

The medic released the poor courier, who fell to the ground with a groan. Before he could go berserk, Dottore took a few calming breaths. ‘Four seconds inhale, seven seconds exhale,’ he repeated the mantra. By this time, the boy had managed to get up and shake himself off the dirt, while Rodion patiently awaited further instructions. Finally, when the Doctor was calm enough to not feel the sudden need to rip someone to shreds, he turned to the butler.

“Have one of the guest rooms ready, perhaps the one on the east side. You'll also have to put the servants of that scrooge somewhere. Damn! That he had to turn up now…”

“Don't worry, Lord Dottore,” reassured Rodion. “We are fully prepared for the arrival of the guests. I assure you that Lord Pantalone will not be disappointed with the quality of the accommodation.”

The Doctor nodded with understanding.

“Thank you. I'll go now, I have to run a few errands myself before he gets here. I leave the organising in your hands.”

The old butler bowed, the messenger quickly following suit, and then they both departed along the path. Dottore returned to the laboratory and let out a long, anguished sigh. He looked around the room.

‘I need to tidy up in here, otherwise his complaining will haunt me for the rest of my life. And maybe it would be appropriate to warm up the main room a bit, Pantalone hates the cold. I'll ask Bianka to…’

Then it came to him.

Bianka.

Bianka, his assistant, is here.

For the first time since she had arrived, he felt terror. Pantalone ABSOLUTELY couldn’t know that he had succumbed to his persuasions and found himself an assistant. If Regrator somehow found out about Bianka's existence, Dottore would never get rid of the sight of his satisfied smile and triumphant, "I told you!" from his mind. No, the researcher’s presence was out of the question.

The man headed for the bedroom, where Bianka was already lying on the sofa, trying to get a few moments of sleep. He quickly traversed the distance separating them and shook her shoulders.

“Bianka, wake up, now!” The woman muttered something unintelligible, but managed to lift her eyelids and focus her confused gaze on the Doctor. “I'm giving you time off, three days…”

“Wait, I don't understand…” she muttered, but the Harbinger didn't listen to her.

“… You know what? It’d be best, if you leave right now.” Dottore helped her up and smoothed her crumpled clothes. “Go home, get some rest and don't show your face around the lab or the villa for the next few days.”

“But why?”

“I have an idea.” The man did not find it necessary to explain the whole situation to her. “Don't move from the hut at all, okay? I'm glad we understand each other, now run along. Have a nice holiday!”

Dottore patted her on the shoulder, shoved the apron and bag into her hands and led her out of the laboratory. The door closed behind her with a loud bang. Bianka stared at the metal for a long time, not understanding what had actually happened. Finally, she folded her lab coat, adjusted the bag on the shoulder and strode down the path. If the Doctor decided to change his mind, she intended to make the most of it.

****

The next day, from early morning, Dottore walked impatiently around the porch of the villa. He glanced at his watch for the thousandth time. The hand had managed to move exactly fourteen seconds since he had last glanced at it. He grumbled under his breath and went back to rubbing off the parquet. A worried Rodion stuck his head out of the front door.

“Lord Dottore, how about some Sumerian coffee, eh?” he suggested. The Harbinger shook his head.

“I'm not thirsty,” he replied.

“In that case, why don't I bring something to eat? Those cookies from Lord Tartaglia look really tasty.”

“No, I'm not hungry either.” Despite the presence of mind, Dottore was wholly unresponsive. Rodion nodded with resignation and disappeared behind the door. The Harbinger sighed and rubbed his face with his palm. He hesitated for a few seconds, then called out, “Rodion!” The butler put his head out again. “Bring those biscuits, actually.”

The man smiled and bowed.

“Of course,” he said and walked off into the villa. After a while, the Doctor was already sitting at the coffee table, swallowing cinnamon cookies. The sweet taste and the crunchy pastry managed to calm him down a little. He felt better prepared for his comrade's arrival, which further improved his mood. As if on cue, he heard horse hooves hitting the path and the clatter of wheels on stones in the distance. A short time later, an opulent, ink-black carriage pulled by powerful, sable stallions drove out from between the trees. The vehicle stopped with a quiet rasp. The doors opened abruptly, and a slender, wearing a dark, low-heeled shoe and (unfortunately) very familiar leg emerged from inside. Dottore watched carefully as a stylish cane appeared next, followed closely by a raven-black head with the first silver streaks adorning the thick curls. After a moment, the man was already standing on the gravel path. Pantalone, codename “Regrator,” known as the Ninth of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers, straightened up and breathed in the fresh mountain air. He adjusted his long coat and looked around, his half-moon glasses cheerfully reflecting the rays of the morning sun. As soon as he saw the Doctor's darksome face, his gentle smile became at once much wider.

“Won't you say hello to me, old friend?” his velvety voice carried across the forest. Dot-tore bared his teeth menacingly. He got up from the table and descended slowly to the courtyard.

“Don't ‘old’ me, you narcissistic magpie!” he reflected. “I was in a great mood until you decided to show your false face here.”

“I'm glad to see you too, Doctor.” Despite the harsh words, the men embraced and patted each other on the back in a friendly gesture.

“What's got into your head to come here?” Dottore continued. “Somehow, I doubt that you suffer from an excess of free time, especially with your profession.”

“As usual, you don't play around with unnecessary courtesies,” he replied. “That’s good, I've always liked that quality in you. But Doctor, truly, your words hurt me. Is it so strange that I wanted to visit a dear comrade?”

“Spare yourself these games, Pantalone," he growled. “Your words wouldn’t fool even a drunken villager. You'd better tell me why you’re here, or I'll lose my already strained patience.”

Pantalone chuckled, covering his mouth with his hand. He leaned towards the Doctor and lowered his voice conspiratorially.

“Indeed, my visit here is not just pure whimsy,” he confessed. “I have an important message to convey to you – a message not meant for prying ears.”

Dottore furrowed his brows.

“A message so important that you could not send it by letter?”

Regrator shook his head.

“Believe me, we wouldn’t want it to fall into the wrong hands. At least not until we have decided how to deal with it ourselves.”

Dottore wanted to reply when the front door opened with a bang, letting the old butler and his retinue of servants out onto the porch. Having noticed this procession, Pantalone smiled warmly.

“Rodion! How good it is to see you safe and sound!” He shook hands with the man, who bowed his head respectfully.

“The feeling’s mutual, Lord Pantalone,” he replied. “I trust the journey has passed peacefully?”

The banker nodded.

“So peacefully that almost ploddingly. That's fine, however, for the last thing I would expect from our good Doctor is boredom and dreariness.”

Dottore snorted and shook his head.

After a brief exchange of words, Rodion sent the servants to their various tasks. He instructed some of them to lead the horses to the stables, others he ordered to direct Pantalone's entourage to their living rooms, and the last group he sent to prepare a meal for their special guest. At this time Pantalone approached Dottore, who appeared to be deep in thought, and hit his friend’s hip with his own. The medic grunted with distaste.

“What are you doing now?” he stuttered out. “Do you really have nothing better to do than make my life miserable? Why don't you busy yourself with your beloved hobby, pursuing the debtors? Or go take a warm bath? I'm sure you're feeling tired after such a long trip.”

“Ah-ah-ah, I’m not having that, Doctor, you won't get rid of me so easily,” he muttered. “Let's go to your laboratory. I'd love to hear what new things you've managed to create out of that pile of iron that inexplicably never leaves your side.”

Dottore sighed heavily and squeezed the bridge of his nose.

“Alright." Having noted Pantalone's growing smile, he added quickly, “But I'm only doing this so that you leave me be quicker and mind your own business.”

“Of course, Doctor, of course," he said placatingly. Without lingering any longer, Dottore set off along the path. After taking a few steps, he stopped and turned to face the other Harbinger, who had not moved even an inch for some unknown reason. He spread his hands in silent question. Pantalone merely extended his arm and looked at him expectantly. The medic looked up at the sky, cursed the world and its inhabitants, and returned to Regrator’s side. He held out his arm, into which Pantalone gracefully slipped his own. They walked together towards the laboratory to the accompaniment of the cane thumping against the sand and gravel.

As soon as they were inside the building, Pantalone moved away from the Doctor and, without hesitation, sat down on the only upholstered chair they had in stock. As he lay back, Dottore shook his head in disbelief.

“I see that the dear sir has already managed to make himself comfortable,” he said, his voice dripping with irony. “May I also offer you a pedicure?”

“Thank you for the offer, but my feet are in excellent condition," Pantalone replied calmly. “However, I would love an oolong tea, if you still have it.”

“You have a lot of nerve, Pantalone,” Dottore growled, at the same time informing the servants of the Harbinger's desire via shortwave radio. “I only possess it because you brought a whole stock of it with you last time! I wouldn't drink that disgusting muck in my life.”

“Doctor, your sense of taste must have degraded considerably, if you consider it a muck. Perhaps you should try cutting down on your coffee intake a little? I too would have a dull tongue if I tasted that bitterness all the time.”

Dottore, feeling obliged to defend the only beverage whose aroma he appreciated, began to snipe at the banker, stating that the man was completely unfamiliar with more refined flavours. Immediately, a lively discussion ensued about all kinds of drinks, their taste and health properties. The Doctor summarised it, saying that: "Pantalone can stuff himself with his 'sacha,' or he'll kick him out and send him back to the palace." Pantalone replied with brief but insightful: "It’s called 'sencha,' not 'sacha.’” No one knows if their discussion wouldn’t have ended in fisticuffs, if the infamous tea had not been served at that moment. This managed to silence the unruly Harbingers for a while.

“So, you said you came here on an important matter…” Dottore broke the silence, sipping ‘that disgusting muck.’ Pantalone was in no hurry to reply. He swirled the cup gently, watching the liquid’s movement, smelled its fragrance, announced,

“Signora is dead.”

… then took a slow sip of the tea. He held it in his mouth for a moment, savouring the taste, before swallowing with satisfaction. He waited a few seconds for his fogged-up glasses to regain their clarity, and looked calmly at the stunned Doctor.

“What do you mean ‘dead?’” he asked in disbelief. “What could have defeated such a powerful and experienced being?”

“She was killed by her own hauteur,” he replied. “She challenged our good old Traveler to a duel and was defeated. According to the rules of the duel, the penalty for losing was death. She was executed on the spot by the Electro Archon.”

Dottore fell into a pensive mood. For some time now, the Traveler had been a thorn in the Fatui’s side. They had been destroying their camps, sabotaging missions and interfering with their main objective. So far, the Harbingers have managed to come out on top, but the death of one of their own could prove to be a powerful blow to the entire organisation. He will have to take a closer look at this mysterious newcomer from another world. Should the chance arise to conduct some experiments, the results could prove invaluable in his own mission to enhance the human body.

“Before you fully indulge in your deranged musings, I will ask you to pay attention for a few more seconds,” Pantalone brought him down to earth. “The death of one of the Eleven Harbingers is, no matter which way you look at it, a unique event, so Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa has announced an official funeral. All the other Harbingers are to attend.” Dottore was already opening his mouth to express his opinion when the Banker interrupted him, “If you think you can send any of the segments instead of yourself, you are sorely mistaken. Her Majesty will immediately notice the difference.”

Dottore let out an irritated groan. He didn't have the slightest desire to leave his safe and familiar home, arrive at Zapolyarny Palace and participate in an as dull as ditchwater ceremony together with his annoying comrades. However, he knew that Pantalone was right – no matter what his opinion was, Tsaritsa's words were paramount. He sighed.

“I understand,” he finally said. “If it's a must, I'll be there for this whole funeral. Has a date been set yet?”

“In a few weeks,” Pantalone informed. “It's not so easy to transport someone's remains from a foreign country, so far away from Snezhnaya on top of that.”

“Remains?” the Doctor asked, not understanding anything. “What do you mean? Has she been dismembered?”

Pantalone smiled slightly before taking another sip of tea.

“Worse. What was left of our dear companion was no more than a pile of ash.”

Dottore did not reply. After a brief moment of silence, broken only by a distinguished slurping, he spoke again.

“What about Scaramouche? If my memory serves me correctly, he accompanied La Signora on her journey.”

Regrator shrugged his shoulders.

“We haven’t received any message from him. Nor have we found any trace of his presence. It is as if he had vanished into thin air.”

Dottore pondered, murmuring under his breath. Pantalone didn’t understand what his companion was mumbling; he only heard a few words, such as “segment” or “contract.” Eventually, the medic refocused his attention on the conversation.

“Now that you've passed the message, for how long do you plan to stay here?”

The banker frowned in thought.

“Probably for a week, maybe two.” He chuckled quietly. “If your company proves to be entertaining, maybe even three.”

“That long?” the Doctor flipped. “Forget it! You can't come here uninvited and demand accommodation from me with all the amenities for the next three weeks!”

Pantalone looked at him alertly.

“Why the sudden nervousness?” His voice was laced with curiosity. “My words shouldn’t surprise you, after all I have stayed in your estate for a longer period of time more than once.” He squinted his sharp eyes. “Do you have something to hide, perhaps?”

Dottore had already come to the conclusion several times that Pantalone had far too much cunning and intuition. For his own sake, he should know when to hold his tongue. The truth was that Regrator’s prolonged presence meant less effective work. And not just because the Ninth Harbinger would be dragging him out of the lab to discuss different topics or just have some quality time together. The whole problem could be put in two succinct words: Bianka Snezhevna. It was hard for the medic to admit it, but he was already used to the presence of the researcher and eagerly delegated more arduous tasks to her. However, as long as Pantalone remained on the estate, Bianka would have to conceal her presence. Dottore gritted his teeth. ‘Why must you always bring so much trouble with you, you greedy muckworm?’ he thought.

“I have no idea where these foolish ideas come from, Pantalone,” he groused. “I think that, as far as we're concerned, you're the one who's having more secre…”

All of a sudden, a loud screech echoed through the room in intervals. Pantalone shuddered in surprise, while Dottore abruptly turned his head towards the source of the sound. He set his teacup down on the coffee table with a bang, then hurriedly walked over to the tablet which was lying on the workbench. Pantalone watched with keen interest as the Doctor switched on the device and tinkered with the dials and buttons. Suddenly, his figure became still and his muscles stiffened in tension. A cavernous growl escaped from his throat, soon turning into a loud scream.

“DAMN IT! What has this woman gotten herself into again?!”

“What’s going on? What woman are you talking about?” Pantalone also rose from his chair and stood at Dottore's side, trying to read something from the device's screen. He was not given the opportunity to find out anything more, however, because at that moment the Doctor took the tablet without a word and dashed towards the exit. Pantalone wasn’t going to wait idly – without hesitating, he ran outside in the wake of his companion. As soon as he was in the open air, he realised that Dottore was already disappearing around the bend. He quickly ran in his direction, not falling behind (if he really wanted to, he could be a great runner, despite his office job).

The two Harbingers, one with a face twisted with rage, the other with determination in his eyes, rushed through the forest. No creature, large or small, dared to stop them.

****

Bianka stretched and smiled contentedly. Her first real day off in Siniy Glaz. ‘About time!’ she thought, getting out of bed. Taking her time, she washed her face, brushed her teeth and put on loose clothes. When she emerged from the bathroom, a delicious-smelling breakfast was already waiting for her. Without a care in the world, she swallowed bite after bite, humming a happy tune under her breath. Having licked the plate clean, she washed the dishes, put them on the drainer and started to rummage through the kitchen cupboards. Finally, she found what she was looking for. She took out a sizable jar and shook off the dust. Satisfied, she put on the straw hat she kept in the wardrobe and stepped outside.

She was hit by a gentle breeze carrying with it the smell of summer. The weather was perfect – the blue sky was not disturbed by a single cloud, it was warm and crisp. Bianka eagerly set about looking for berries. She intended to collect a whole jar to use later for desserts or simply as a sweet snack. She hadn't found too many bushes during her forays into the forest, so she knew she would have to venture further than she ever had before. She wasn't worried about that, however. She had plenty of free time and could carry out her search even into the evening.

As she wandered through the woods, she relished the beautiful day and the peaceful mind. When she thought about it, she realised that today was the first day since her arrival at the Second Harbinger's residence when her head was not troubled by any black thoughts. On the contrary – she felt free of all mundane worries. She could no longer remember the last time she had been able to indulge in such a frivolous activity as berry picking. Since her first job as a scientist at the Main Research Institute, her life had revolved around experiments and the occasional get-together with friends.

‘Maybe this move wasn't such a bad idea after all?’ went through her mind.

Having reached the stream flowing into the lake, she jumped over to the other bank and ventured deeper into the forest. She was less familiar with this part of the estate and had to be careful not to lose orientation. This day, as well as the next two belonged to her alone; she had no desire to spend them in the company of the grumbling Doctor, who would once again be forced to come to her rescue.

After a few minutes of walking, she realised she didn't recognise the area she was in. She smiled with satisfaction and proceeded to search for berries. Just ten minutes later, she managed to find the first field. The berries were fully ripe; their dark blue skin glistened, reflecting the sun's rays, and the insides were bursting with juice. Bianka scooped up a whole handful and, with a satisfied purr, popped them into her mouth. They were delicious; she meticulously licked each finger without leaving even a drop of liquid. Having contained her gluttony, she gathered the rest of the berries into a jar which was now one-third full.

Walking a little further, she noticed a small ravine in which something red flashed. Curious, she walked closer and was delighted to find that she had found wild strawberries. These fruits were a real delicacy in Snezhnaya; despite their small size, they hid a deep sweetness which perfectly matched the tart aftertaste. She quickly ran over to the tiny bushes and sank to her knees. After grasping the red fruit gently so as not to squash it, she took in its fragrance and put it into her mouth. A quiet, satisfied murmur came from her throat. Without hesitating any longer, she set about picking (and eating) more fruits.

Suddenly, a deep, guttural growl sounded just behind her. She felt her heart freeze in her chest. She must have been so absorbed in foraging that she did not hear when an animal crept up to her. Afraid to make any sudden movement, she turned her head very slowly. She only managed to catch a glimpse of a huge silhouette and glowing yellow eyes before the creature dashed towards her with a loud roar. Abandoning the jar of berries, she rapidly picked herself up from the ground and scurried off. She had not the slightest doubt as to the identity of the animal. Somehow, the Beast haunting her in her nightmares had managed to find her in the real world too. When she became fully aware of this, she felt such an enormous sense of terror that her legs almost buckled under her. At that moment, she heard a swish of air right next to her ear. She screamed in fear and sped up.

‘How the hell did that monster get here?!’ she thought frantically. ‘The whole terrain is teeming with sensors and security devices, after all!’

She had never run so fast before. Horror bordering on madness and adrenaline coursing through her arteries gave her energy. She knew she had to find help quickly before she lost the strength to continue running. She was convinced that the Beast would take every opportunity to tear her apart. Unfortunately, the animal was very agile and equally determined. Hearing the rumble of its powerful paws and feeling its breath on the back of her neck, Bianka rushed past a low-growing tree branch, pulled it, and let go. She heard a loud smack preceded by a growl full of pain. Without looking back, she ran onwards with the Beast hot on her heels. At some point, a huge tree appeared before her eyes, most probably an oak. Its roots grew above the ground and curved up to form something resembling a narrow tunnel. Bianka threw herself towards it, hoping that it would shelter her. Suddenly, her left calf was pierced by a pain so terrible that she wobbled and fell to the ground with a scream right next to the roots. The Beast, unable to stop, leaped over her and landed a few metres away. With her last strength, the woman managed to crawl into the tunnel. Seconds later, the spot where she had just been was struck by long, dagger-sharp claws. The Beast, not letting up, put its hairy paw into the hiding place, trying to grab the woman and pull her back outside. Bianka pushed back as far as she could and, exhausted, with her face drenched in tears, lay on the hard ground, praying to all the gods she knew for rescue.

****

First Dottore heard roars and hisses before he saw their source. While still running, he summoned his claymore. Pantalone, who was keeping a few paces behind him, followed suit and after a moment a slender sword appeared in his hand. Panting heavily, they passed the last turn. At the same moment, a shiver-inducing sight appeared before their eyes. Lurking around a thick tree trunk was a gigantic feline with thick, white-grey fur and darker dapples. It surpassed even Dottore, who definitely could not whine about his short height, by two heads. The animal flexed its powerful muscles and gazed with intense yellow eyes at the mouth of the narrow tunnel. Suddenly, it jumped onto the roots and, with its paw armed with curved claws, tried to reach something that was inside the hiding place. When a terrified, desperate cry came from inside the tunnel, Dottore felt the blood in his veins boil.

“Pantalone,” he spoke in a sepulchral voice, “as soon as I drag the Beast away, you will run to the roots and take Bianka to safety. Do you understand?”

Pantalone's eyebrows lifted in wonder. He had no idea who Bianka was, but, seeing the Doctor's reaction, she must be someone important. He knew there was no point in arguing now – absolute ruthlessness could be felt from the Doctor's entire figure. He nodded.

“I'll do what I can,” he replied.

Wasting no more time, the medic took a few steps closer to the Beast, summoned his ranged weapon and unleashed a projectile that hit the animal in the occiput. The feline turned its head abruptly, noticing its new opponents. Its whiskers trembled as it raised its lip in a furious snarl. Dottore bared his teeth in a macabre grin.

“What's the matter, kitty?” he teased. “You don’t like when someone disturbs your hunt?”

The Beast roared loudly, then jumped down from the roots and began to slowly approach the Doctor and circle him. The tufts of hair on its ears twitched chaotically as it shook its head, and its thick tail waved restlessly from side to side. Dottore corrected his grip on the claymore and moved his neck, which let out a dull crack.

“Forgive me,” he muttered, aiming the other of his weapons at the predator, “but this estate is too small to accommodate more than one beast.”

With a wild hiss, the animal pounced at the Doctor. At the same time, the man released another ice bullet and jumped back a few metres. He raised the claymore, fangs flashed and the fight flamed up for good. Compared to the Beast, Dottore looked like a dwarf, but in terms of fierceness he wasn’t even an inch behind it. The roars, screams and moans they emitted were so loud that anyone within a kilometre could hear them. The Harbinger moved back almost imperceptibly towards the forest, attracting the feline, so that the hiding place under the roots remained unguarded. Pantalone, who has been waiting behind one of the trees until now, took advantage and quietly ran up to the entrance. When his eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness inside, he saw a huddled, shivering body. A muffled sobbing came to his ears. He tried to reach inside, but Bianka moved even deeper, limply kicking his hand away.

“Don't fight me, I won't hurt you,” he promised. “I only want to help you.”

He turned anxiously to inspect the Beast's position. When he focused his gaze back on the tunnel, he noticed that the woman had raised her head and was looking at him with fear in her glassy eyes. He extended a gloved hand towards her.

“Come with me, I'll take you to safety,” he continued.

At that moment, the Beast realised that, in addition to the annoying, ravenous male it was fighting, there was another individual in the clearing – an individual who was trying to appropriate its prey for himself. The cat let out a cavernous growl and, forgetting about Dottore, ran towards Pantalone. The banker quickly stood in a defensive posture, preparing for the tackle with the animal. The Doctor shouted to get the cat's attention, but seeing that it was having no effect, he launched another massive attack.

“Get her out of here, Pantalone!” he groaned with exertion. “Hurry up, or this monster will get you!”

Regrator leaned over the entrance and stretched his arm as far as he could. Anxiety appeared in his eyes.

“Quick, Bianka, we don't have time!” he said urgently. Bianka did not hesitate any longer. Moaning in pain, she crawled out of the tunnel and accepted the Harbinger's hand. Pantalone helped her up, then threw her arm around his neck. He glanced one last time at the fighters. The Beast was panting heavily to regenerate. Its body was covered with wounds from which scarlet blood was oozing. It spared one of its front paws, transferring its body weight to the others. Unfortunately, Dottore did not emerge from the skirmish unscathed either – Pantalone noticed that one of the sleeves of his coat had been torn, showing a vivid red. In addition, the cat had managed to twist his mask, which was now unable to cover one of the Doctor's ruby, hiding pure madness eyes. Nevertheless, the flame of his determination didn’t falter. With renewed vigour, he rushed at the Beast, hitting it square in the snout. Pantalone didn’t watch any longer. He moved away as fast as Bianka's wound allowed, led away by loud roars, both animal and human.

The researcher was rapidly losing her strength. Pantalone had already noticed her wounded leg. He wasn't sure how much blood she had lost, but he could guess from her weakness that quite a lot. After a while, he practically had to drag her, as she was unable to stay on her feet. The man tried to encourage her with warm words, but they were of little use. Suddenly, a deafening sound echoed through the forest, a beam of light shot upwards from the battlefield, and the whole sky flashed with a blinding blue light. The woman trembled and clung to Pantalone. The man corrected his grip and looked back.

“It must have pretty pissed him off…” he muttered, and resumed his slow walk. When they were close to the laboratory, it was clear that Bianka was beginning to lose her grip on reality. Then, thumps of somebody’s footsteps resounded just behind them. Pantalone turned to see a battered but still alive Dottore. Without a word, the Doctor scooted over to Bianka's other side and, together with Pantalone, helped her reach safety.

“What about this feline? Have you defeated it?” Pantalone groaned. Dottore nodded his head.

“Dead,” he replied. The banker corrected his grip on the researcher's arm.

“What was it exactly? It was the first time I had seen such a creature.”

“It was a sabrelion. But now is not the time to talk, help me move her to the operating table.”

Pantalone unusually decided not to argue. Together they carried Bianka into the treatment room and laid her on her side. Dottore took off his mask, so that it did not restrict his field of vision, and began to rummage around the room. He grabbed sterile swabs, surgical floss, disinfectant and other necessary items out of several drawers, and collected them on a smaller table. Regrator watched, standing off to the side. Finally, the Doctor returned to Bianka's side, grabbed the scissors and, without hesitating, cut open the leg of her trousers. He gently exposed the wound, provoking a moan from the woman, and scanned it with his eyes. He tutted with displeasure.

“It shanked her, I must admit,” he said. “The wound is quite deep, but it will heal. However, there will definitely be a scar, and quite a large one at that.”

Bianka moved nervously and opened one eye, trying to get her bearings. Driven by instinct, she tried to get up, but Dottore didn’t allow her to do so.

“Pantalone, come here and make yourself useful," he ordered. The banker approached the table, amusement clear on his face. “Hold her down so she doesn't run away. She won't like what I'm going to do now, so I advise you to be careful with your hands. I recommend you don't hold them close to her face.”

Furrowing his brows, the Harbinger followed the order. He watched as the medic drew some colourless liquid into a syringe and exposed Bianka's forearm. Pantalone looked at the patient's semi-conscious face and pondered.

“Why are you so concerned?” he asked Dottore. “There's no way she can escape in such a…”

He didn't manage to finish. The moment the needle pierced the researcher's skin, she opened her eyes abruptly and jerked in his grasp with a yell. Pantalone was so taken aback by this reaction that he almost let her go. Bianka's teeth were already clenching on the man's hand when Dottore threw himself at her to immobilise her. Held down by both Harbingers, she could do nothing more than wriggle helplessly.

“Come on, Bianka,” Dottore whispered. “Close those pretty eyes of yours and go to sleep.”

The woman quickly lost her energy. Just seconds after the injection, her muscles relaxed and her breathing calmed down. When Dottore was sure she had fallen asleep, he let her go and signalled Pantalone to do the same. The banker straightened up slowly, as if afraid that Bianka would regain consciousness and attack him with passion, then corrected his crooked from the struggle glasses.

“Why did she react like that?” he asked as Dottore busied himself cleaning the wound.

“Bianka is afraid of needles," he replied. “You have seen what she is capable of. If I started stitching her up without any preparation, she would probably rip half my face off, which I have no desire to experience.” He looked at Pantalone and pointed to his own scars. “I believe that I have already been sufficiently gifted by fortune.”

A smile returned to Pantalone's face. He circled the table and stood next to the Doctor, who was already applying the stitches, then glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

“And who exactly is Bianka? I'm sure I've never seen her before.”

Dottore pressed his lips into a thin line, deliberately avoiding his partner's gaze.

“She's a new maid,” he snapped. Regrator only scoffed.

“A maid?” he echoed. “That's interesting. How did she get here?”

“It doesn't matter,” Dottore growled, putting on the last stitches. “This topic has nothing to do with our cooperation, so I don't need to tell you that.”

Dottore didn’t have to turn around to sense the growing amusement and boldness from the other man.

“You are right,” he admitted. “Nevertheless, I am very interested in her person. She must be a really important servant, perhaps even more important than Rodion.”

“And where did you get such an idea, hm?” the medic asked, getting down to bandaging the wound. He didn't notice when Pantalone's gentle smile became more devious.

“From observing you. You seem to be very concerned about her health. I’ve never seen you coming to the rescue of a mere servant girl before. And on top of that, you yourself were injured in the fight,” he added, drawing attention to the scratches on his face and arms. “What a sacrifice on your part. Are you convinced that Bianka is really who you say she is?”

Dottore gnashed his teeth and ran his fingers through his hair, soiling it with blood in the process. He was so upset by the conversation that he didn't even notice that his locks have changed colour. Pantalone decided not to reproach him for it – it would be much more interesting to wait and find out how long it would take him to realise the situation.

“You should learn when to keep your mouth shut," he snarled. The medic sighed loudly and finally looked into Pantalone’s eyes which were shining with triumph. “Maybe Bianka does have a slightly different function than standard service.”

“Meaning?”

There was such complacency emanating from the man that the Doctor felt nauseous. Realising he wasn't going to get away without an answer, he finally gave up.

“Bianka is my… assistant,” he explained, practically spitting out the last word. Pantalone, overjoyed, joined hands in a loud clap.

“Oh, this is very interesting indeed!” he exclaimed. “Tell me, is it because you have finally decided to come to your senses and follow my advice?”

“Watch your mouth, you arrogant bastard! I am this close,” Dottore brought his thumb and forefinger nearer, leaving a millimetre gap, “from scalping you and making a pillow out of your hair. If you know what's good for you, you'll stop harassing me.”

Pantalone pretended to lock his mouth with a key and toss the imaginary object into the corner. It didn’t change the fact that he was still smiling as if he had won the top prize in the lottery. Sensing that he would achieve nothing more, Dottore snorted and refocused his attention back on Bianka. The researcher got two more injections – an antimicrobial ("I don't know where that Beast was knocking about. That would torn it, if an epidemy broke out here.") and an analgesic. He then gently lifted her still unconscious body and, with Pantalone never leaving his side, carried her to the room where they were usually resting. Being careful not to irritate the wound, he laid her on the sofa and covered her with a blanket. Unfortunately, he had no blood in his medical arsenal to transfuse into Bianka, so she had to slowly recover on her own. The banker observed these procedures with growing interest.

“Well, well, Doctor, I must stand corrected,” he said as they both left the room. Dottore looked at him with a silent question in his eyes. “I had previously considered that Bianka must be an important person, but now I see that I made an error of judgement. Analysing your behaviour, I conclude that Bianka is an absolutely essential member of your small community.”

“I will sadden you, but know that you have not been wrong once, but twice already. Bianka is an ordinary scientist who sometimes helps me with my own research. There is nothing extraordinary about her.”

“Is that so?” Pantalone raised one eyebrow. “Then why did you decide to personally tend to her wounds? What happened to the merciless Il Dottore, who would sentence any helper to death for making even a small mistake?”

“I don't recall showing a lack of mercy, as you put it, in recent times.” Dottore returned to the main room, sat down on a stool and took a sip of his already cold tea. He pointed to an opposite seat. “You'd better stop with the interrogation, and instead come here and drink your oolong.”

The banker shook his head in exasperation; the characteristic smile did not leave his face, however. He took his seat gracefully, but didn’t take up the offer of another cup of tea.

“All right, I can see I'm not going to get anything more out of you, so let's talk about something else. Tell me again, what was this creature that attacked your perfectly ordinary assistant?”

The Doctor frowned threateningly, but didn’t comment on the dig.

“It was a sabrelion,” he replied. “I didn't suspect I would ever see one. They practically went extinct long ago; as far as I know, remaining specimens live in the most inaccessible areas. This one must have wandered here in search of a mate. They are very territorial and can be extremely aggressive during mating season.”

“Then you have killed an endangered species,” Pantalone remarked. “Aren't you afraid of the repercussions?” he asked with irony. One bored glance from Dottore was completely sufficient as an answer. “Never mind that. I'm more curious about what you intend to do with the body? The fur could fetch quite a price on the market. If you ask nicely, I can help you find a buyer.”

“I don't need your help. I know what you would expect in return. I'm sure I would see at most thirty per cent of the profit, meanwhile the rest would disappear in your wallet.” Pantalone made an innocent face, which only strengthened the Harbinger's conviction. Dottore mused. His gaze wandered towards the room where Bianka lay, before a satisfied smile appeared on his face. “Anyway, I already have an idea of what to do with this conundrum.”

Pantalone merely shrugged his shoulders and sank deeper in his chair with a quiet sigh. Dottore measured him with an enquiring look and asked,

“Are you not going to drink anymore? This tea is here for you, you know?”

“Oh, of course not,” he replied, not opening his eyes. “I'm not going to make free with someone who receives his guests with blood in their hair.”

“What?” Dottore ran his hand over his head. When he looked at it, he saw that it was covered with red spots. He cursed loudly. “Wait here a moment, I'll be right back. And don't meddle with anything, understand?”

The man only murmured in agreement. He opened one eye to follow the grumpy Doctor as he headed towards the bathroom.

****

Bianka had the impression that some enormous weight was pressing her body against the sofa. She felt unbelievable exhaustion – simply lifting her arm seemed like an act comparable to moving a boulder weighing a ton. Finally, she managed to lift one eyelid. She didn’t fully understand what she was seeing. Some part of her mind knew that she was in one of the rooms of the laboratory and lying on the sofa, but the drug still present in her blood didn’t allow her to think rationally. She looked around the room hesitantly, feeling growing anxiety, then fear. From somewhere behind the door, she could hear hushed voices, but was unable to distinguish individual words. She didn’t like this feeling of disorientation. She wanted to be somewhere else, preferably in a safe hut.

The woman tried to raise herself to a sitting position. Having gathered all her strength, she lifted herself up and leaned against the side of the sofa. It costed her far more energy than she suspected. The fact that vertigo hit her did not help either. Perhaps it was due to the daze, or maybe her usual lack of self-preservation (for which she was known), she lowered her feet to the ground against reason and carefully stood up. Her grand plan to get back to the familiar cottage took a nosedive after only two steps, when her injured leg bent under her weight. She let out a groan of surprise, wobbled, and landed on the floor. The voices stopped abruptly. Bianka heard the screech of a chair being pushed back, and a moment later she was blinded by light coming from the open door.

“And where do you think you're going?” The Doctor's deep, disbelieving voice reverberated through the room. “You're still sedated. You should be in bed and resting.”

Dottore took her arms and helped her lie back on the sofa. The woman grunted and involuntarily grabbed his forearm.

“Don't go away from me,” she stuttered. “I'm scared.”

“Oh, by the Seven Archons…”

“What’s happening?”

A concerned Pantalone appeared in the doorway. The Doctor sighed, putting all his exasperation and fatigue into it. Intoxicated, Bianka became aware of the presence of yet another person. She looked at the newcomer; her eyes widened in bewilderment.

“Dottore,” she muttered weakly. “Why is this gentleman burning?”

The Second Harbinger looked at his comrade, scrutinised him from head to toe, then turned back to Bianka.

“You don't even know how much I wish it was true,” he whispered. Focusing his attention on the banker, he said, “Leave us alone. I'll have to sit with her for a while until she falls asleep again. Why don't you go stretch your legs? See what else has changed since your last visit.”

This time it was Pantalone's turn to cast the Doctor a searching look. His beady eyes jumped from Bianka to Dottore and back again. After a long moment, a meaningful smile appeared on his face. He nodded.

“Of course, I wouldn't want to interfere with the convalescence. Take care of her, Doctor.” Having said that, he backed out of the room and, throwing the medic one last lingering glance, left the laboratory. Dottore sat down on the edge of the sofa and squeezed the bridge of his nose.

“I hope you're happy with yourself, Bianka,” he crabbed. “Now he'll never get off my back. He will remind me of this situation for the rest of my life.”

Bianka paid no attention to his whining. She was still holding Dottore's forearm tightly, while trying to control her weakness and accelerated breathing.

“I don’t feel well,” she said quietly.

“I know, it's normal, you don't have to be afraid,” he replied. Hesitating, he reached out and stroked her cheek with his finger. “You'll be fine, you just need to rest.”

The woman let out a weak sigh. She lifted her eyelids and looked at the Doctor's face. The man had left his mask in the main room, so she had a full view of the dark circles under his eyes.

“What has actually happened?” she asked. “I don't remember…”

“You were attacked by a sabrelion, a big cat that inhabits the inaccessible areas of Snezhnaya. Truly, you have an innate talent for getting yourself into dangerous and improbable situations.”

Bianka furrowed her brows. A shudder ran through her body as she recalled the tomcat’s yellow orbs and howl.

“If the Beast attacked me,” she muttered, “then why am I still alive?”

“What do you mean ‘why?’ Me and Pantalone saved you when that creature was close to biting you in half! I fought it, while Pantalone took you to the laboratory.”

Bianka bulged her eyes.

“You fought…?”

Only now did she take notice of the patches and bandages adorning his temple, cheek and arm. Sympathy appeared on her face. With an effort, she raised her hand towards him.”

“You are injured,” she said. Dottore gently took her arm and placed it back on the sofa.

“Don't bother about me, these are only superficial scratches,” he assured her. He reached out his hand and gently closed her eyes. “Sleep, Bianka. Regain your strength while you have the chance.”

Feeling the warmth emanating from his hand, the researcher finally calmed down. Before the darkness consumed her again, she managed to cover Dottore's hand with her own.

“Thank you…” she whispered, smiling at him. After a moment, her arm fell limply to her side, and she drifted off into sleep. The Harbinger didn’t move from his seat. He watched her calm face, and his eyes hid emotions so unnatural to him that no one had ever had the honour of seeing them before. Finally, after a very long time, he snapped out of the trance, stood up and left the room, closing the door behind him. After noticing that Pantalone had not yet returned, he sat down at his work table and busied himself with tinkering with his latest project – it was imperative that he keep his body and mind occupied with something to calm his rapidly beating heart and quieten the raging thoughts that were steadfastly returning to the helpless researcher resting in the next room.

To the first human who felt safe enough to freely fall asleep in his presence.

Chapter Text

Bianka stirred on the sofa and, struggling, opened her heavy from sleep eyes. Looking around the room, she realised that she was still in the laboratory. She already felt much stronger – her body had neutralised the drug. Then, somewhere behind her, a quiet chuckle resounded.

“You've finally returned to the world of the living,” a velvety voice said. “I hope you've had a good night's sleep. Dottore emphasised that rest is very important in convalescence.”

With an effort, Bianka tilted her head and glanced at the elegantly dressed man wearing glasses. For a moment, there was only a black hole in her head. She had no idea where this gentleman had come from, but she had a strong impression that she knew him from somewhere. Suddenly, clarity of mind returned to her. She remembered the Beast's attack, the hiding place under the roots and the man who had helped her escape the animal's fangs. She had never seen him with her own eyes before, but every member of the Fatui knew the appearance of all the Harbingers from photographs.

“Lord Pantalone…” The researcher felt uncomfortable, lying in the presence of such an important figure. She was already propping herself up when the banker stopped her.

“Don't get up, there's no need,” he said reassuringly. “I wouldn't want the Doctor to be angry with me for letting you move so early.”

“The Doctor…” she muttered. “Where is he now?”

Pantalone hummed and smiled sympathetically.

“Dottore has given me a very responsible task of looking after you, while he goes off to find the place where the Beast has made its nest. He wanted to make sure that there are no more similar beings on the estate.”

A shudder ran through the woman's body. She didn't even want to think about the possibility that there were more of those bloodthirsty creatures prowling the area. Pantalone moved closer and stroked her hand gently.

“Don't worry, Bianka, you're safe here,” he assured her. “I was there when the Doctor fought to defend you. It won't be an exaggeration if I say that I've never seen such determination in his movements and gaze before.”

Bianka was taken aback by his words, but she didn't let it show – she wasn't sure how much trust she could place in another Harbinger, so she preferred to keep her guard up. Instead, she glanced curiously at his ever-smiling face.

“I don't want to seem nosy,” she began, “but may I know the purpose of your visit, my lord?”

Pantalone laughed soundlessly.

“I just wanted to see an old friend and go on a well-earned holiday in the process. I don't often get the chance to enjoy fresh mountain air in such a beautiful place as Siniy Glaz.”

The researcher nodded, but instinctively sensed that the Harbinger hadn’t told her the whole truth. She wasn't going to question him further; if he wasn't willing to reveal the true purpose of his visit, then that information wasn't meant for her ears.

The man cleared his throat and looked at her seriously.

“I am sorry to bring you down to earth so soon, but there is a matter we need to discuss.” All hilarity disappeared from his voice at once. Bianka focused her attention on him, listening to his further words. “Dottore dragged the Beast away so that you could escape, but you must understand that I also had a part in this rescue operation, for I helped to take you to safety. I believe in the principle of fair exchange, this allows for justice in business. In return for saving your life, I will expect you to also do me a favour one day.”

Bianka bulged her eyes in wonder. She had heard of his obsession with contracting and answering debts, not only monetary ones, but she had not suspected that she herself would one day fall victim to it. She didn’t dare oppose Regrator’s words; she knew that, despite his frail figure and gentle smile, the Ninth Harbinger was extremely intelligent and cunning, and therefore just as dangerous as his companions.

“What will this favour demand from me?” she asked matter-of-factly.

“Please, don't bother about it now,” he replied. “I know that my words may seem harsh and disturbing, but I value justice. I will not expect you to do something that is beyond your capabilities. When the time is right, I will come to you and let you know what your task will be.”

At that moment, they heard the bang of the front door closing. A second later, a sweaty Dottore crossed the room’s threshold. His hair was tousled from the wind and a slight blush was visible on his face. Having noticed that Bianka had regained consciousness, one corner of his mouth lifted involuntarily.

“I'm glad you decided to return to us,” he said in greeting, then came closer and, gently pushing back the blanket, began to examine her wound. Pantalone made an offended face.

“You won't say hello to me?” he asked indignantly. “I took care of Bianka specifically at your request, and you won't even look at me. What a lack of respect!”

Dottore let out a long sigh and turned ostentatiously towards the banker. He smiled crookedly.

“Greetings, Pantalone,” he said in an unnaturally high voice. “I am so happy to see you! I've missed you already, we haven't seen each other for thirty-three minutes after all.”

Bianka smiled surreptitiously.

“Did you manage to find the hideout?” Pantalone changed the subject. The Doctor nodded.

“Yes. Fortunately, I didn't find any traces of the other sabrelions. That was expected; as I said before, these animals are loners.” His attention focused back on the wound. “It's looking quite good. Rest for a few days and you'll be like new.”

The researcher didn’t reply. Instead, a small grin appeared on her face – a grin that he absolutely didn’t like.

“What is this grimace?” he asked tensely. “What’s so funny?”

The woman instructed him with her finger to move closer. When he reluctantly acquiesced, she whispered in his ear,

“Didn't I say there was a Beast milling around, Doctor?”

The man pouted.

“Hey, I killed the sabrelion, didn't I?” he grumbled. “In the end, nothing bad happened.”

Bianka rolled her eyes.

“Bonehead,” she muttered under her breath. Louder, she said, “Thank you for the rescue, Doctor. And you too, Lord Pantalone. I am eternally grateful to you both.”

Her warm words evidently perturbed Dottore, who grunted in embarrassment and turned his head away. Regrator covered discreetly a knowing smile with his hand.

“It was nothing. I couldn't let the Beast prowl around my yard and attack my subordinates. That's my job.”

She snorted indignantly, but her smile showed that she wasn’t holding a grudge.

“I have a question,” she spoke up. “How did you know I was in trouble? Surely you couldn't have heard my screams from so far away.”

The Doctor smiled deviously. His hand went to her neck and rested on the nape.

“I have my ways,” he replied mysteriously. Bianka widened her eyes. She remembered their conversation about the tracking device and how it had more than one function.

Pantalone cleared his throat, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“Forgive me for interruption, but I too am curious about one issue. Namely, how did the Beast manage to enter the estate unnoticed? I thought the whole area was surrounded by sensors and alarms…?” The man glanced at Dottore. The man crossed his arms and hummed thoughtfully.

“It's hard for me to admit, but I'm not sure myself. I have been thinking about it for a long time; the only option that came to my mind was the existence of some secret passage, unprotected by any safeguards. I am not aware of any, however.”

Suddenly, Bianka stiffened and her breathing abruptly stopped. She tried to relax her muscles as quickly as possible and calm her pounding heart, but the observant Harbinger saw her suspicious reaction.

“Bianka.” There was a warning note lurking in his voice. Again, he leaned over the researcher, drilling into her with his eyes. “I think you have something else to share with us. Come on, don't be shy, tell us your secret,” he smiled.

The woman looked into the Doctor's eyes. For a few seconds, she considered lying and pretending she had no idea what he was talking about. Feeling his fierceness, however, she knew there was no way she would be treated with leniency. She sighed nervously.

“It's possible that… I once encountered something like a secret passage,” she muttered. Dottore's grin became even wider.

“Is that so?” he drawled. “That's very interesting. Can you tell me more about it?”

Feeling like a prey that fell in a trap, she recounted how, while rafting on the lake, she had discovered a small isthmus leading beyond the estate to a nearby village. She could tell by his surprised expression that he had no idea about this unobtrusive shortcut.

“Fascinating,” he said when she had finished the story. “If it is as you say, then the Beast could indeed have come through there.” An expression of deep thought appeared on his face. “I wonder if the isthmus was also used by the raiders from the time when the previous owner lived here. I assume you've heard about this story, right?” Bianka hesitated, but nodded. Dottore snorted amusedly. “Of course, no secret can hide from you.” His voice became more serious. “I will have to examine this place carefully and, if necessary, block the passage.”

The researcher felt a stab of sadness at the thought that she might never have the chance to use the river to travel to the town again. Despite the dangers of rafting, she liked to feel like a brave adventurer. The Doctor noticed this and patted her shoulder reassuringly.

“Don't trouble yourself with it.” He leaned and whispered conspiratorially in her ear, “If you continue to be so loyal and hardworking, I can turn a blind eye to your little outings.”

“I would like to suggest something, Doctor,” Pantalone interjected. Dottore rolled his eyes, but let him speak. “I think it would be a good idea to give Bianka a weapon, in case she finds herself in a dangerous situation again.”

Dottore scoffed.

“Nonsense, why should she…” Then, he paused. He turned towards Bianka and scanned her with his gaze from head to toe. Bianka felt embarrassed; she had to admit that she had a tendency to get into trouble. Finally, he sighed with resignation and nodded. “Maybe you could really use something to defend yourself with.”

The woman straightened up and fixed the Harbinger with a curious gaze. She awaited his verdict with bated breath. Dottore, however, began to fire questions at her.

“What weapons were you taught to wield before? And how long ago was that? Did you go through a military school or had a private teacher? Did you ever take part in a real battle?”

Bianka felt like a schoolgirl who came to an exam completely unprepared. She knew that her answers would not be satisfactory. Her hesitation began to irritate the medic, whose movements and words became more and more abrupt.

“Come on, we don't have all day. Do you know how to fight with a sword?”

“No, Doctor…” she stammered.

“In that case, how about a spear? Daggers?” Bianka shook her head. Dottore furrowed his brows. “You don't have a Vision, so the catalyst is out of question. How about a bow?” Having received only silence for an answer, consternation appeared on his face. “Then what?”

Bianka cringed involuntarily and swallowed.

“I… never learned to fight…” she answered with fear.

“What?” Lord Dottore's voice was unnaturally calm. Even Lord Pantalone looked puzzled. “What do you mean you don't know how to fight? You are a member of the Fatui military branch, how did you never receive training? This is absolutely unacceptable!”

The woman lowered her head in remorse, listening to his harsh reprimand. She didn’t dare look him in the eye.

“It's because of my illness," she explained. “When I had my first epileptic seizure, I was exempted from training. I went straight into the Main Research Institute as a scientist.”

Dottore squeezed the bridge of his nose so hard that his fingertips turned white. He began to walk back and forth across the room, mumbling under his breath. Bianka watched him, afraid to even breathe. Pantalone's face expressed nothing, even his immortal smile had visibly faded.

“It can't be like this… She has to know how to fight… She is the Harbinger's right hand. That's unacceptable,” Dottore muttered, combing his hand through his hair. Finally, he stopped and measured the researcher with a commanding gaze. “No more excuses,” he declared. “As soon as your wound has healed, you will begin your combat training. It will continue until you are as good at it as you are at creating poisons, or even better.”

Bianka drew in the air loudly. Barely able to choke out a few words, she asked,

“Who…” She coughed and started again. “Who will be teaching me?”

Dottore straightened up and patted his chest.

“I will be your mentor,” he proclaimed in a stern voice. “Your progress will be supervised by one of the Eleven Harbingers. I hope you will be able to appreciate this.”

The researcher's astonishment had no bounds. Her gaze was filled with fear mixed with uncertainty, but also admiration. After a few seconds of staring into each other's eyes, she flinched, as if she had been snapped out of a trance, and bowed her head respectfully.

“As you wish, Doctor.”

Suddenly, laughter came from the corner from which Pantalone had been watching the exchange of words.

“It sounds quite promising,” he said. “I just have to see this.”

****

Dottore walked briskly through the forest with Bianka treading on his heels. He had given up his stylish coat for a loose tunic. He led her towards a sandy clearing intended for training. Two weeks had passed since their star-crossed encounter with the Beast. Bianka's wound managed to heal almost completely, leaving only a pale, long scar, so the Doctor decided it was time to start training. Pantalone, who had been staying at the estate during this time, expressed a desire to watch her progress. At first, Dottore didn't even want to hear about it, but when Regrator said it would act as a payment for keeping Bianka company during her convalescence, he begrudgingly relented.

When they arrived at the forest clearing, Pantalone was already awaiting them. However, he wasn't golden for exercise, no. The Harbinger was sitting at a coffee table specially prepared for the occasion and sipped his favourite tea. As soon as he saw them, he waved a hand clad in a black, elegant glove.

“Welcome, brave warriors!” he called out. “It’s truly a fine day for combat training.”

Dottore grimaced as if he was beginning to regret certain life decisions. He groaned in reply.

“Spare yourself the lofty words, Pantalone,” he snapped. “Remember that you are only here as an observer. If you interfere too much, you'll be out of here faster than you can say the word 'Mora.'"

Pantalone smiled radiantly, but remained silent. Having made sure the man wasn’t going to disturb them, Dottore stopped in the middle of the clearing, turned to Bianka and crossed his arms over his chest. A bird-like mask hid his penetrating eyes from the prying gaze of others.

“This clearing has been designated for learning and perfecting battle skills,” he informed. “We'll be practising here five times a week after work in the lab; during that time, I expect your full commitment. If what you said a few days ago was true, you have never participated in any combat training before, am I right?” Bianka nodded affirmatively. “OK, then today we'll try to choose a weapon for you and teach you some self-defence techniques.”

The researcher frowned.

“Does that mean we're not going to learn how to attack yet, Doctor?” she asked. Dottore laughed and shook his head.

“Are you that keen to end up on the ground with a sizeable collection of bruises?” he replied patronisingly. “How do you want to learn how to fight if you can't even get your stance right? One push from me would knock you off your feet! No, we have to start from the very basics.”

“How do you know I can't assume the correct stance?”

The Harbinger looked at her askance.

“Do you feel like showing off?” Bianka hesitated, then shook her head firmly. Dottore sniggered. “That's what I thought. Right, let's get started then. First a warm-up, after all we wouldn't want you to end up in bed again because of an injury.”

Having said that, the Doctor ordered her to do a few laps around the clearing, and then to stretch her whole body, as well as do ten squats. Bianka thanked her own intuition to put on airy clothes for the occasion, for after these short exercises, she was all sweaty. In truth, she was unpleasantly surprised in how bad a shape her body was in. Dottore, on the other hand, who had done exactly the same exercises, only had his breathing slightly accelerated. Watching her drawing the air greedily, he tutted in exasperation.

“I'm starting to feel grateful for this whole Beast situation,” he said. “If it had never happened, you'd still be lying upside down and your muscles would be getting weaker and weaker. This workout will do you good,” he concluded, nodding to confirm his words. Bianka felt a growing irritation.

“Oh, I don't think I'd moulder anyway. Not when you're so fond of chasing me and threatening to dismember me.”

Thunderous laughter escaped from Dottore’s throat.

“I'll take that as a thank-you for looking after your condition,” he replied, then straightened up with his arms akimbo. “Enough of the chit-chat. Let’s get down to the real work.” Seeing his determination, the researcher began to seriously consider feigning sudden collapsing.  Unfortunately, before she had time to make a decision, the Doctor continued, “We'll start with the fighting position. Show me what you think it should look like.”

Bianka gave it some thought. She had never taken part in a hand-to-hand fight herself, but when she was still living in the House of the Hearth, she had occasionally witnessed spars between older kids. Trying to recall as much as she could of that time, she drew back her left leg and raised her hands to face level. Dottore assessed her position and smiled wryly.

“Are you sure you'll be able to keep your balance?” he asked. The woman didn't know how to answer. She had no idea what a proper fighting position should look like. The Harbinger approached her with a slow step and then, without any warning, pushed her hard. Bianka was completely unprepared for this. She wobbled and tumbled onto the hard sand. The hit squeezed all the air out of her lungs.

“Ouch, first spill," Pantalone's comment reached them. Dottore ignored the other man's dig. He waited patiently for the researcher to rise to her feet, and then began to correct her posture.

“You had your legs too wide apart, so you were not able to support yourself,” he pointed out. “Also, don't hold your arms so high, you need to be able to see what is happening in front of you.”

Bianka obediently followed Dottore's instructions, who told her to place her feet at shoulder width and to slightly twist her left leg. When the medic pushed her a second time, she leaned back but managed to maintain balance. The man nodded with satisfaction.

“That's better,” he praised. “Remember this posture, we will always start from it. Now we will learn how to move. Remember that combat is always dynamic. If you stand like a pillar of salt, you have no chance of winning or escaping from your opponent, so you must be constantly active.”

All of a sudden, the Doctor began to move quickly towards Bianka, who tried to increase the distance separating them, putting foot behind foot. Unfortunately, she stumbled, which, combined with Dottore's push, made her taste sand in her mouth for the second time.

“And another miss,” Pantalone spoke up. The other Harbinger gritted his teeth and threw in his direction,

“One more word and I swear you’ll be the one who experiences a closer encounter with the ground.”

The banker chuckled and shook his head condescendingly.

“Do you really think you would manage to run to me and throw me onto the ground before I summon my sword? I'd like to see that,” he said, trying to stifle a laugh. Deciding not to waste any more time on the unruly Harbinger, the Doctor turned back to the already battered Bianka.

“When fighting, you must never cross your legs,” he instructed. “Instead, you have to shuffle them. Look at me.” Dottore assumed his position and began to move across the clearing. “When you step back, you take a step with your left leg and your right leg follows. The opposite is true when moving forward, in which case the left leg follows the right leg, which takes the step. Try it.”

Watching the Doctor's actions carefully, Bianka began to imitate his way of moving. She immediately felt more stable. The Harbinger noticed it too.

“Better, right? This way it will be harder to throw you off balance and topple you to the ground.”

The woman had to admit he was right.

“Doctor, couldn't you show me the correct position first and then test it?” she muttered. “I admit that I have no desire to take on the colour of a ripe berry at the end of my training because of the bruises.”

Dottore bared his teeth in a grin.

“They say a man learns best from their mistakes,” he countered. “Believe me, Bianka, the more times you fall, the quicker you will learn. Now stop whining and try to circle me.”

The researcher gasped sharply, but began to move leg by leg without discussion. Dottore followed suit, not letting her out of his sight for even a moment. This was not the time for fighting, however. After completing a few laps, the Doctor decided that was enough and ordered a short break. Bianka threw herself at the glass of water like a snake attacking its prey – fast and brutal. Smiling benignly, Pantalone pulled the cup of tea closer so that the sand that coated the woman from head to toe wouldn’t get into it. Dottore strode unhurriedly to her side and sipped from a second prepared cup. As Bianka downright absorbed all the water, she sighed in relief and glanced at her mentor out of the corner of her eye. She noticed that the Doctor was watching her with a thoughtful expression. She raised one eyebrow and tilted her head curiously.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she snapped him out of his reverie. “Do I have something on my face?”

Dottore let out an amused hum and shook his head.

“Not counting a ton of sand, your face is pristine,” he joked. Bianka pouted her lips, at which he laughed again. “It's just that… you remind me of someone.”

Bianka's eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Me? I remind you of someone?” she repeated disbelievingly. “Who exactly?”

The Harbinger shifted his absent gaze somewhere behind her.

“Someone who lived many, many years ago.”

The woman waited for further words, but these did not follow. Dottore seemed to be reliving scenes from his past; his face expressed a melancholy so unnatural to him that she dared not disturb him. She turned to Lord Pantalone, seeking answers to unspoken questions. Regrator reciprocated her gaze, but his face was wholly inscrutable. With a quiet sigh, he closed his eyes and raised the cup to his lips without a care in the world. Realising that she would learn nothing from him, Bianka turned back to the medic. For the first time, she wondered how old Lord Dottore might be. He didn’t look more than forty, but she had a strong impression that this wasn’t necessarily true. She was in her twenties herself, yet she remembered the time when, as a little girl, she had attended history classes where she had been told to memorise the names and ranks of each of the Eleven Harbingers. She recalled a picture of a fear-inspiring Doctor. She was sure he looked exactly like the man who was now standing metres away from her.

After a few seconds, the man shook himself out of his stupor and focused his gaze on Bianka, who was watching him intently. He cracked a smile and, on a sudden impulse, tousled her hair.

“Have you rested yet? That's great,” he said, without waiting for her answer. “Let's continue our training. I will now show you some moves that you can use in a duel with a stubborn aggressor.”

Dottore ordered her to assume the fighting position again and instructed her how to clench her fist so that her fingers would not break when she struck.

“Remember, you are to aim for the head and neck, these are the most sensitive places,” he stressed. Bianka furrowed her eyebrows.

“I thought a man's most sensitive place is the crotch…?”

She very much disliked the smile that appeared on his face at that moment.

“Well, well, Bianka, what a dirty thought.” The researcher was already readying to defend herself, but the Doctor didn’t allow her to. “Alright, if you feel this is the right way, go ahead and try it.”

The Harbinger stood in front of her, crossed his hands behind his back and spread his legs slightly, as if to make her task easier. However, Bianka did not feel comforted, quite the opposite – the man's smile was far too confident and… mocking to reassure her. She had a strong feeling that she had fallen into a trap and would be knocked to the ground once again in just a few seconds. Nevertheless, she decided that she would not give in and show submission as a coward would do. With determination, she clenched her jaws and delivered a powerful kick, aiming straight between the Doctor's legs.

In a split second, his hand clamped down on her ankle. The movement was so fast that it blurred in her eyes. Before she had time to register this new position, Dottore pulled her towards himself and pushed her onto the ground with his other hand. She felt a sharp pain radiating from her back to the tips of her fingers. She started to struggle, but the Harbinger put his knee on her chest and pinned her with his own body while locking her wrists in an iron grip. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the look of sympathy on Pantalone's face.

“It's not so rosy now, is it?” Dottore mocked her. “It's not all bad, however, you will definitely remember this moment for a long time. The more times you fall, the quicker you will learn,” he repeated the maxim. “From now on, try not to dispute with me anymore, but follow my instructions instead.”

The Doctor let go of Bianka and helped her up. The woman dusted herself off and stood up, ready for the next exercise. He nodded approvingly and returned to his position.

“As I mentioned before, your main target is the head and neck,” he continued. “You can, for example, hit my jaw with the base of your hand. If the blow is strong enough, you might even be able to knock out someone with less experience. Come on, let's try it out!”

They spent the next hour learning a few hand strikes, dodges and the correct stance, which Bianka often forgot to return to after a successful (or slightly less successful) hit. She fell only five more times, which she considered a great success. Pantalone bravely helped, cheering her on in her struggles ("Great, Bianka, show him who's in… Oh drat, I spilled tea on myself!"). When the sun had reached its highest point in the sky, Dottore ordered her to stop. The woman breathed a clear sigh of relief and was already heading towards the wooden bench when he caught her arm.

“Holla, and where are you going? We still have one last thing left to do.”

Bianka groaned and turned to the Harbinger with a pleading expression on her face.

“Doctor, please, I'm dead on my feet already,” she complained. “Can't we reschedule it for another day?”

“Oh no, not a chance,” he replied firmly. “We were supposed to pick you a weapon today and that's what we're going to do. Or have you already forgotten about it?”

Suddenly, all the tiredness faded away, replaced by an insatiable curiosity. She had never held a real weapon in her hands before, not counting the recent battle with the churls. Will she be given a spear, as she was during the memorable skirmish? Or will she get something completely different?

Dottore noticed her interest and smiled with satisfaction. With a motion of his hand, he led her to the edge of the clearing, where stood a real arsenal of various fighting tools – Bianka imagined that this must be what every warrior's paradise looked like. The Doctor assessed her with a sharp gaze, and then turned towards the racks.

“You have a petite build and little strength in your arms, so claymore is definitely out of the question,” he mused aloud. “A catalyst won’t help you either as you don't have a Vision.” He stopped his hand on a small hazel bow. He took the weapon off the stand and handed it to Bianka. “Let's try with this one. Draw the bowstring, but don't let it go.”

The woman stood sideways to the imaginary target, raised her weapon and drew back the string as hard as her untrained muscles would allow. Dottore walked around her, measuring her with a careful look. He did this until Bianka's shoulders began to tremble with exertion. Finally, the Harbinger stopped and shook his head.

“No, this is not a weapon for you,” he concluded, taking the bow from her.

“I think so too.” The researcher flinched when she heard Regrator’s voice just behind her. Pantalone approached them and looked at the fighting tools with interest.

“How did you deduce that this bow doesn't fit me?” she asked. “I haven’t even tried to shoot with it.”

“I don't need to test your shooting skills to conclude that the bow is not your type of weapon,” Dottore replied. “You looked… how to put it…”

“Quite clumsily,” Pantalone suggested. The Doctor nodded his head in agreement.

“Yes, 'clumsily' is a good word.”

Bianka's cheeks blushed with embarrassment. She didn't have any negative feelings when assuming the shooting stance, so she didn't quite understand the two men's point of view. However, she knew that her opinion on the matter carried little weight, so she had to trust them. Instead, she walked over to a rack of spears and selected one of them.

“In that case, how about this one?” she asked hopefully. She remembered well the effectiveness with which she had been able to use the spear’s length to keep her opponent at bay, and this despite having zero experience. She hoped that the recent battle had given her some foundation for learning to wield this type of weapon. However, Dottore seemed discontented with her choice and looked at the spear with distaste.

“Polearms are usually used by inexperienced in combat plebeians,” he replied dryly. “I have much higher expectations of you. I am not interested in the fact that you are first and foremost a scientist; you are also a personal assistant of the Second Harbinger, and that carries a certain prestige. For that reason, I won’t be teaching you how to use a crossbow too; that would be far too easy.”

Bianka flinched at hearing these unfavourable words, and, disappointed, put the spear back in place. Dottore rested his hand on his chin thoughtfully and glanced at the pile of weapons. Having apparently come to some conclusion, he turned to Pantalone.

“Let us try the sword. Pantalone, although it is hard for me to say, I admit that you are more experienced with this type of weapon. Would you be so kind as to help us choose the best blade?”

Amused by the Doctor's sincerity, the man inclined his head slightly.

“How would I say no to the Second Harbinger?” he replied, to which Dottore scoffed in exasperation. “Let's see what we have here.”

Pantalone looked carefully at each sword individually. He took some of them off the hooks to check their weight, balance and flexibility. Finally, he selected one that was sparsely decorated and a little shorter than the others, and handed it to Bianka. The woman grasped the weapon, which turned out to be heavier than she suspected. She quickly corrected her grip and looked at the banker, waiting for further instructions.

“Stand sideways, spread your legs and make a thrust," he ordered. The researcher obeyed his instructions. After the hit, she wobbled slightly, dragged by the weight of the sword, but managed to hold her position. Pantalone instructed her to perform a few more cuts and thrusts, while observing her figure and posture. Finally, panting from exertion, she hunched and lowered the tip of her sword, which touched the ground. She looked expectantly at the Harbingers, who were deep in thought.

“Better, but I'm still not convinced it's the right choice,” Dottore spoke up. “I think it's too long for her. Sometimes she wobbled so much that I wasn't sure whether she was wielding the sword or the sword was wielding her.”

Pantalone nodded his head.

“She should indeed be able to maintain a better balance. She’s quite frail, so even the smallest sword could be too much. Perhaps a dagger would be a better solution for her…”

As the men plunged into discussion, Bianka put down her blade and looked at the other options. There were so many that it made her skin crawl. She feared they would spend the whole afternoon and evening here, trying to choose the right weapon. Knowing the Doctor, he wouldn't even give her a break to eat or wash up. Then, amidst a pile of haphazardly thrown weapons, she spotted a flash. Curious, she began to search between the blades, careful not to accidentally injure herself. Having found the source of the mysterious glow, she tightened her hand on the handle of a simple knife. She realised that the light was the result of the sun's rays reflecting off its blade at an angle. She gripped the knife tighter and performed a cut to test it. The weapon was light and handy, and not overly fancy, so that she immediately felt ease in executing subsequent blows. She took a few steps away from the pile of iron, assumed a fighting stance and made a few more cuts. For the first time she felt something like excitement, which gave her strength. She moved once to the right and then to the left, attacking the imaginary enemy and jumping back as she visualised his counter-attacks. She was so focused that only after a long moment did she realise the silence that had permeated the clearing. Having returned to reality, she turned to face Dottore and Pantalone, who had been watching her intently all this time. A knowing smile slowly blossomed on the Doctor's face.

“Interesting choice, Bianka,” he remarked. “It is said that knives are the weapons of thieves and petty thugs. I should have guessed they would suit you, given how much you like to talk back and break the rules.” Bianka drew in a loud breath, knowing there was more truth in his words than she wanted to admit. The Harbinger walked over to the pile and retrieved a second, identical knife, then slipped it into her other hand. He stepped back and straightened up with a stern expression. “Fighting stance!”

The researcher quickly assumed an appropriate position and then, guided by the Doctor's instructions, attacked with both knives at once. Her movements were off-target and inexperienced, and her left hand was considerably weaker than her right, but she still felt like she was a lot more dangerous than just a few minutes before. After a moment, Dottore told her to stop and lower her knives.

“Much better,” he declared, echoed by Pantalone's satisfied hum. “We have a lot of work to do, we'll have to start from the very basics, but I think we've found your type of weapon.”

Bianka felt determination filling her body. Despite her fatigue, she was already looking forward to the next training session. Her commitment caused her great surprise – she still couldn't believe that as an ordinary scientist she would be taking combat lessons from one of the powerful Harbingers. Nay! it would never have crossed her mind that she would ever get the honour of talking to a Harbinger, let alone working alongside one.

Dottore approached the researcher and took the knives from her.

“These are only for training,” he explained. “You will get custom-made ones, adapted specifically to you and your abilities.”

Bianka gasped with delight and bowed her head gratefully.

“Thank you, Doctor, this will be a truly wonderful gift,” she replied. The man grunted and blushed slightly, feeling a growing abashment.

“Enjoy it while you can, because when we start the real training, your enthusiasm will quickly cool down,” he snapped gruffly, which didn’t spoil Bianka's mood even one bit. Her intensive gaze, from which not even his faithful mask was able to protect him, made him increasingly uncomfortable. Feigning cold indifference, he snorted and turned to the other Harbinger. “Regrator, perhaps you could help me demonstrate to Bianka what my expectations of her are?”

Pantalone groaned protractedly and lumbered slowly towards them.

“Am I supposed to fight with you?” he complained. “That's not a good idea. I've just had tea, I'm going to get reflux from the exertion.”

“Oh, what a poor thing you are,” grumbled Dottore. “All it takes is a minor unpleasantness and you become a real…”

Pantalone attacked suddenly and without any warning. Like a cobra preparing to deliver a killing blow, in a split second he summoned his sword and aimed straight at the Doctor's heart. Instantly, a loud clang of weapons connecting with each other carried across the clearing. Bianka sighed loudly as Dottore parried the blow with his grim claymore. Startled and frightened, she backed away to the edge of the clearing, while the medic bared his teeth in a wide grin that heralded a painful death.

“You two-faced magpie! Don’t you think it’s impolite to stab someone in the back like that?” The man shoved Pantalone, who jumped a few metres away, and delivered a murderous cut from top to bottom. Enthralled Bianka watched this battle of men who held the might of the entire Snezhnaya in their hands. As he attacked and dodged the Doctor’s blows, Pantalone presented himself as the embodiment of grace. His every move was carefully considered, fluid and mesmerising; the woman found it hard to take her eyes off of him. The Doctor's hits, on the other hand, were seemingly far more chaotic, but no less deadly. The force of his blows was so frightening that Bianka froze every time his claymore collided with Regrator’s sword. Looking at his taut muscles and bared teeth, she imagined fear-inducing abyssal monsters, spoken of only in whispers behind closed doors. Suddenly, she felt an unexpected pride in her superior and a joy to work at his side. Tied together in a peculiar dance, she could hear their heavy panting, moaning and grunts. Finally, at some sign invisible to her, they both lowered their swords and took a step away from each other. They sent their weapons away just after bowing with respect to each other.

“Well, Bianka, only when you learn to fight like this will I be satisfied,” Dottore concluded, drinking another cup of water. The researcher bulged her eyes at him.

“To fight as you do?” Her voice was thick with disbelief. “It's impossible, I'll never reach that level!”

“Nonsense, I don't expect you to dance like an assassin after only a few training sessions. It can take years to reach perfection, but don't worry, baby steps and we'll get there. Isn't that right, Pantalone?”

The banker did not reply. He had managed to return to the coffee table, but was still breathing heavily. Only now did they discern his pale complexion and sweat-covered forehead. The Harbinger tried to reply but was unable to get a word out. The researcher heard Dottore’s amused snort behind her.

“Your physical condition is quite poor, don’t you think, partner? Were you slacking off that much?” Dottore picked up a clean cup, poured water into it and approached his tired companion. “Take it, drink.”

Pantalone emptied the vessel in several large gulps. Meanwhile, the Second Harbinger had carefully analysed his appearance and measured his pulse. Having drunk all the water, Regrator breathed a sigh of relief, and a gentle smile returned to his face.

“Thank you, Doctor, I'm feeling better now,” he replied gratefully.

“You look sick and your heart rate is accelerated. Would you like me to examine you quickly afterwards?”

“There is no need for that,” he assured, straightening up in his chair. “It's a temporary faintness, nothing to be alarmed about.”

Dottore measured him with his gaze for a long time, but Pantalone remained unmoved. Finally, he nodded.

“It's lunchtime now, we'll go to eat soon, and then you'll get your strength back.” Having said this, he returned to Bianka's side. “I think that's enough for today.” The woman allowed herself to relax, but then Dottore spoke again. “Just a small jog along the borders of the estate and we can finish the training.”

The researcher sincerely hoped that she had misheard him. From what she could tell, the fence was around two kilometres long; she had neither the desire nor strength to face that challenge. Unfortunately, the Doctor had a deadly serious look on his face and didn't seem eager for any discussion. The vision of trotting for the next half an hour awakened anger in her.

“No way!” she shouted. “I'm downright falling off my feet. I can't run this extra distance!”

“Oho, I was already worried that we wouldn't get our daily portion of squabbling," he said with a laugh. “Fortunately, I can always count on you for that. Come on, get up and let's start running.”

“No, I don't agree! I'm going to wash up now and then have lunch, nothing else.”

“Be careful, Bianka,” he warned in a low tone. “I have my ways of getting you to cooperate. I advise you not to test me.”

The researcher snorted and ostentatiously turned her head away from him.

“I'd like to see that,” she snarled. Dottore was just waiting for this. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a syringe with the longest and thickest needle she had ever seen appeared in his hand. Instantly, her stress level rose from “relaxed” to “my soul is escaping through my mouth.” It didn't matter to her at all that the syringe was empty. “Wait, what is that supposed to mean? Don't come near me with that!” she shrieked, backing away from the horrific tool. The Doctor giggled ominously.

“It's time for some fun," he said, then pounced at Bianka. She squealed shrilly and broke into a frantic run. Smiling, Pantalone watched them dash out of the clearing and disappear among the trees. After a moment, he too got up and headed unhurriedly towards the villa, where dinner was to be served in a few minutes. Standing on the porch was an already set table with a beautiful, snow-white tablecloth. The man sat down in one of the comfortable, soft chairs and breathed contentedly. Then, a high-pitched shriek followed by a loud cackle echoed somewhere in the forest. Pantalone laughed softly – they both must be having a fantastic time. These noises rang out in intervals over the next several minutes, after which the Doctor and his assistant emerged from the shadows. Bianka looked as if she was already one foot in the grave – her whole body was covered in sand, dust and soil, and she herself panted like a would-be floater. Dottore, on the other hand, looked like a child who had received a dream gift for his birthday – Pantalone couldn’t remember the last time he had seen him smile so sincerely. The disturbing syringe disappeared somewhere, meanwhile the medic supported the wobbly Bianka and helped her reach the villa.

“You see, darling, I warned you that I can get you to co-operate,” his voice rang out. Bianka didn’t comment on his words. When they finally climbed the porch stairs, she looked at Pantalone and complained,

“That moron jumped at me from the trees!”

The banker threw a quick glance at his comrade, but Dottore didn’t seem to take any notice of the jab. It was further proof of the uniqueness of his and Bianka's relationship – Pantalone knew that if anyone else had said it, they would already be biting the dust.

“I just wanted to spice up our game a bit,” the Doctor explained. He patted the researcher on the back and pushed her gently towards the entrance. “I appreciate your today’s commitment. Go and clean yourself up, and then come for lunch.”

The woman dragged herself inside the building, leaving the Harbingers alone. Dottore plopped down in the other chair and stretched, yawning.

“Don't you also need to wash up?” Pantalone asked. “After all, you've been practising a lot too.”

Dottore waved his hand.

“I'm not that grimy, Bianka was the one who worked the hardest today,” he replied. “She deserves a double portion of potatoes.”

Regrator analysed him surreptitiously.

“You seem to have grown quite fond of her," he remarked. “Are you going to take her with you?”

Dottore didn’t answer immediately. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

“I haven't made a final decision yet,” he confessed. “I have to consider all the pros and cons. I also don't know how the… others will react to her.”

“Oh, I wouldn't worry about that,” Pantalone smirked. “If they are even a little bit like you, they will quickly fall in love with her.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” he growled. Pantalone chuckled and shook his head.

“Nothing much, interpret it as you wish,” he said mysteriously. The Doctor was already opening his mouth to question his companion more thoroughly, but then servants came with their meal, and moments later Bianka joined them. As soon as she sat down in the last vacant chair, the Harbinger slid a tureen of stew towards her.

“Help yourself, you've earned it," he encouraged. The woman gratefully accepted the dish and ladled herself a substantial portion. When each plate was filled to the brim with delicious-smelling food, Pantalone raised his wine glass.

“To a fruitful collaboration!” he made a toast. Dottore and Bianka echoed him eagerly, and then everyone began to savour the aromatic meal.

Chapter Text

Pantalone left the next day. Bianka arrived in the courtyard when he was talking with Lord Dottore. She just heard the Doctor say, “I'll see you in a few days,” before they both fell silent, noticing her arrival. As soon as all his luggage was loaded into the opulent carriage, he thanked heartily for their hospitality, hugging first Dottore and then, to her great surprise, Bianka.

“I would very much like to stay longer, but unfortunately my duties call me back to the Zapolyarny Palace,” he said, and turned to the researcher. “Be strong, Bianka, and don't let the Doctor make your life too miserable. Between you and me,” he lowered his voice, “I think you're dealing with him greatly.”

The woman looked at him with wide eyes, not expecting to hear such kind words. Pantalone winked at her surreptitiously and then, whistling lightly, got into the carriage. The coachman steered powerful black stallions towards the entrance gate. They both watched the retreating retinue until it completely disappeared between the trees. Dottore moved next to Bianka.

“Well, that would be all,” he declared.

“It's a pity Lord Pantalone had to leave already,” she sighed. “I came to like him.”

The Doctor turned to her abruptly.

“You came to like that blighter?!” he asked in disbelief. “That devious, phoney wretch?”

“I came to like this polite, eloquent and lettered gentleman,” she replied. “He was a nice change from a certain extremely intelligent, but grouchy and arrogant doctor…”

Dottore growled under his breath. After a moment, however, he perked up and looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “I am extremely intelligent?”

Hiding a meaningful smile behind her hand, she nodded. The corners of his mouth involuntarily moved upwards and he puffed out his chest.

“I am extremely intelligent,” he repeated. A few seconds later, his expression faded and he lowered his shoulders, as if realising his behaviour. He came to his senses and assumed a stern expression. “That's enough about Pantalone. Get changed and we’ll start training.”

“What?!” she exclaimed in horror. After yesterday's exercises, her muscles were screaming in pain, and in the morning she barely managed to get out of bed, almost falling over onto the bedside table. There was no way she could make it through this hell a second time without even a day's break.

Dottore smiled mockingly.

“Yes, Bianka, we're going to practice. Do you remember the agreement? We were supposed to train five times a week, which means that sometimes training will take place day after day.”

The woman's skin broke in goosebumps. She could already feel more bruises and small wounds preparing to seize her skin. Dottore nudged her gently towards the hut, pulling her out of her reverie.

“I'll see you in fifteen minutes in the clearing,” he announced. “Don't be late.”

That said, he disappeared inside the villa, most likely searching for more comfortable clothing himself. Frustrated, Bianka cursed under her breath, whining over her fate, and lumbered with resignation to her cottage by the stream.

****

With her newfound perspective, Bianka realised that she shouldn’t have called Lord Dottore out for being an extremely intelligent but grouchy and arrogant doctor (emphasis on “grouchy and arrogant”), for it seemed that the Harbinger had set his sights on squeezing the last remnants of energy out of her. As soon as she set foot on the compacted sand, the man ordered a quick warm-up and then moved on to strength training. He informed her that before they could get down to the real fight, they had to first tone her body with special exercises. The researcher swore to herself that if the Doctor ever came up with such a harebrained idea again, she would pretend that she was suffering from enteritis and was unable to stand on her feet for even a minute.

Her workout consisted of several rounds of squats, sit-ups, jumping jacks and other strengthening exercises. Dottore wanted to also add push-ups, but this proved to be a task beyond Bianka's capabilities – she managed to do a whole one before dropping to the ground without energy. Seeing this, the Doctor smacked his forehead and shook his head.

“We really have a lot of work ahead of us…” he muttered.

After an hour of this torture, she wanted to cry from exhaustion. She was so weak that her legs buckled under her, so she lay stretched out on her stomach, her cheek touching the sandy soil. Dottore, meanwhile, wasn’t slacking off – every second, a distinctive smack echoed in the forest as he performed another clapping push-up. Bianka watched his actions, too exhausted to formulate any logical statement. After a minute or so, the man rose with vigour and, still full of energy, jumped up a few times, relaxing his muscles. He then turned to Bianka and eyed her condescendingly.

“You look like carrion,” he announced. The researcher rolled her eyes.

“Thanks, Doctor, I appreciate the compliment,” she retorted. Dottore laughed throatily and crouched right next to her head.

“Don't worry, we'll take a day off tomorrow,” he tried to console her.

“Phew, what a relief.” Bianka's voice dripped with barely concealed sarcasm. She didn't suspect that one day off would allow her to return to full strength. Rather, she would need a week in a nursing home with daily salt water baths to get rid of the pain. Unfortunately, she knew that in Siniy Glaz she could count on a cold shower at most.

Dottore tilted his head slightly. Never before had he reminded her so much of a large raven, lurking on helpless prey.

Although, when she squinted a little, he resembled more of a hen sitting on her egg.

“Believe me, you may hate these exercises and curse me to the heavens, but they will help you quickly gain weight. And not the obesity-related kind,” he assured. Suddenly, he became serious. “In the near future, you will need it more than you may think.”

Bianka raised her eyebrows in curiosity.

“What do you mean?” she asked, trying to get up from the ground. Dottore also stood up.

“Nothing important, don't bother with it now,” he cut off, turning his back on her and heading towards the clearing’s exit.

“No, wait!” she called out. “Why will I need strength? Are we going to fight with something?”

“We're finishing training for today.” The Doctor decided to pretend he hadn't heard her questions. “Take a warm bath and get some rest. Tomorrow, as usual, we'll see each other at seven in the lab.”

The woman didn’t feel satisfied, she still had so many questions. Were they in any danger? Maybe an unknown enemy had managed to find their hiding place and was planning an attack? Or perhaps it had something to do with Lord Pantalone's imminent departure? Unfortunately, all these questions were left unanswered as Dottore walked away down the forest path, leaving her in the company of mighty trees, nimble tits and whispering wind.

****

When she crossed the threshold of the laboratory four days later, she immediately sensed that something had changed. She found the Doctor sitting at one of the workshop tables. However, instead of working on yet another ingenious device, the man was leaning against the table top with his chin resting on his hands and gazed somewhere into the distance with absent-minded eyes. He looked so deep in thought that Bianka wasn't sure if he was aware of her presence. She slowly walked closer and waved her hand so as not to startle him. The man sighed heavily and looked at her with tired eyes.

“Sit down, we need to talk,” he said in greeting. The woman felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Dottore had an unnaturally serious expression on his face, which made her uneasy. She wondered if it had something to do with his words during their training a few days ago. With haste, she sat down on a vacant stool and pricked up her ears. The Doctor turned to face her and continued. “Tell me, have you managed to find out what was the real purpose of Regrator’s visit?”

Bianka was silent for a few moments. Lord Pantalone had never told her this secret. However, she had heard the rumours that circulated among his servants. Rumours that chilled the blood in her veins.

“Something has met my ears,” she admitted. “Doctor, is it true? Lady Signora really is…”

Dottore laughed humourlessly and nodded.

“Why did I even ask, nothing can hide from you after all. Just be careful that you don't come across information you shouldn't know,” he warned, then said more calmly, “It is true, Signora has been killed in the duel with the Traveler.”

The researcher gasped. It was one thing to eavesdrop on implausible gossip and another to hear confirmation from the Harbinger's mouth. Dottore snapped his fingers to get back her attention.

“The official funeral ceremony is to take place in a few days' time and, unfortunately, every Harbinger has to be present, that includes me. I don't know for how long I'll have to leave Siniy Glaz; it might even take a few months to clean up this whole mess. And that's why…” Bianka leaned even closer, absorbing his every word. Dottore noticed this, one corner of his mouth lifted slightly,” … I have decided that I will take you with me to the Zapolyarny Palace.”

Bianka couldn't believe her ears. Has she really just been given the chance to see the Queen's palace itself? A place sacred to all members of the Fatui, where only the highest-ranking captains and the Eleven Harbingers resided permanently, not to mention Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa. How could she, a nameless orphan from the very ends of the human food chain, think she would ever be allowed to play in the big leagues?

It was only after a moment that she became aware of angry shouts coming from the medic's side.

“Earth to Bianka, earth to Bianka! Try to get distracted like that one more time and I'll freeze your rump to the stool!” he threatened. The woman quickly straightened up in her chair, but couldn’t contain her excitement. Dottore furrowed his brows menacingly. “Do you think it’s going to be some sort of an interesting sightseeing tour?” he sneered. Suddenly, without warning, he grabbed her shoulders. “Listen to me carefully. What you had here in Siniy Glaz was paradise. You could go where you wanted, talk to who you wanted and explore as much as your heart desired, but that's going to change now. The people living in the Zapolyarny Palace are like bloodthirsty sharks, capable of the sweetest lies and the nastiest deeds to get what they want. All you have to do is stumble once, show weakness once, and they will pounce on you without a second thought, leaving not even a single bone behind. That's why from now on you have to stay close to me and follow all my instructions, do you understand? That's the only way you'll survive in there.”

His ominous words immediately cooled Bianka's enthusiasm. Perhaps her idea about the trip really was too positive. After all, the Harbingers were famous for their nasty nature. ‘But does it apply to each one of them?’ flashed through her mind. She nodded her head seriously.

“I understand, Doctor, I will try to follow your instructions as closely as possible. However, I wonder if you are not exaggerating a little. I admit that I have heard all sorts of rumours about you too, most of which have turned out to be greatly over the top.”

Dottore let out a guttural growl and shook her shoulders.

“You see, that's what I'm talking about. You over-analyse everything. I can't believe I'm saying this to a fellow scientist, but you think too much, Bianka. You should learn how to clear your mind.”

The researcher pouted her lips, though she knew that the Doctor's words held more truth than she would have liked. She sighed in resignation and nodded once more. Having made sure she understood his words, the Harbinger let go of her shoulders.

“We're leaving first thing tomorrow morning, which is why I'm giving you a day off so you can pack. If you would like to continue creating any of your poisons at the palace, tell me which test tubes to take, I have a special container for them.”

Bianka rose from the stool and headed for her own workroom, where she stored all the concoctions she had created. She considered which toxins she should take with her and which she could safely leave behind. Eventually, she began pulling out more vials and placed them on the countertop. At one point, she reached out to take another when she realised that there was a void in place of the test tube. Consternated, she swept the shelf in search of the lost poison, but it looked like the vessel had literally evaporated.

“Is something wrong?” Dottore saw her anxiety. The researcher took one last glance at the shelf.

“I think one of the vials…” She fell silent, then shook her head. “It doesn't matter, I probably put it somewhere else and then forgot about it. That'll be all.”

“Perfect,” he said, carefully picking up each test tube. “I'll make sure they don't break on the way. Now go on, I'll see you tomorrow at six o'clock in the courtyard in front of the villa.”

Bianka said her goodbyes and, without hesitation, rushed towards the cottage. Having reached the door of her hut, she entered the bedroom and took out an old and tattered rucksack from the wardrobe. The last time she needed it, she had taken it to a battle with the churls. Only now did she notice the dried blood mark on it. ‘I'll have to wash it off to avoid Dottore’s prying eyes,’ she thought. She didn't have the slightest desire to start her journey with uncomfortable questions and possible arguments – as far as she could tell, the Doctor still didn't know about her reckless but brave feat.

Packing didn't take her long. Siniy Glaz was a place completely separated from the rest of civilisation, so all she had were the items she had brought from the Main Research Institute. She carefully hid Kiang's fountain pen, Tatiana's dragon figurine and even Wilhelm's wine. Eymen's chain always accompanied her, adorning her neck. She decided to pack their photo in the morning, as she wanted to be greeted by the smiling faces of her friends when she woke up. When she had stowed all her belongings, the hut became strangely empty. Sadness and melancholy came over her; she felt that she didn’t want to spend the rest of the day here. Leaving her rucksack on the bed, she turned on her heel and headed for the exit.

The road to the lake was so familiar that she would have managed to get there with her eyes closed. The water of the mountain stream sloshed merrily as she crossed it at its narrowest point. When she finally passed the tree line, the glare of the sun hit her face, pleasantly warming her chilled skin. The lake took on the colour of the purest blue, rivalling the sky itself. The snow-capped peaks of the mighty mountains were reflected in the still water. Bianka inhaled deeply the thin air, relishing the aroma of petrichor carried by the light breeze, and walked over to where she had hidden the raft. Feeling a thrill of excitement, she dragged it to the lake’s shore. For several weeks after the battle with the Beast, Dottore had not allowed her to push herself, so she hadn’t had the opportunity to indulge in her new hobby. She decided that a little cruise on the lake would be a perfect culmination of her stay in Siniy Glaz.

The gentle wind hardly moved the water as she guided her raft to the middle of the reservoir. There was an indescribable calm; Bianka immediately felt a deep relaxation permeating every cell of her body. She almost had a feeling that no evil could reach her here. The question arose in her mind as to whether Lord Dottore ever enjoyed the respite that contact with nature offered. Or did he feel safest surrounded by machines and his own crazy but brilliant ideas?

Then, her attention was drawn to the oh-so-familiar isthmus, enticing with the promise of exciting rafting and meeting up with old friends. For a moment, she felt an overwhelming desire to use it one last time. She quickly dismissed the idea, however – she wanted to spend this day alone, relaxing and contemplating. Lifted by an invisible water current, she put the paddle down and lay on her back. She focused her gaze on a circling high above osprey, waiting for a convenient opportunity to hunt. Suddenly, the bird dived. Bianka tilted her head, watching it pierce the surface with its deadly talons. When he lifted himself back into the air with a powerful movement of his wings, she saw that he had managed to catch a sizeable fish. She laughed under her breath.

“Bravo, patient hunter,” she muttered. “Today you will feast.”

The osprey let out a shrill call of victory. Bianka closed her eyes, listening to his partner's reply.

****

From the moment the first rays of sunshine chased away the darkness from between the trees, a real pandemonium broke out in the courtyard. Servants were running back and forth, loading more luggage into the huge carriage. Bianka felt completely out of place with her rucksack as her only belonging. She had already packed the frame and said goodbye to the crumbling hut, and now she was rubbing her hands together to warm them a little. Despite the summer months, mornings in Snezhnaya could be frosty, as evidenced by the steam coming out of mouths of the gathered. After a few minutes, the Doctor himself appeared too, dressed in a thick, richly decorated Harbinger's cloak. His very presence commanded respect. Having noticed the lost researcher, he approached her with an unhurried step.

“You’ve finally decided to come on time,” he teased.

“Good morning, Doctor,” she greeted him. “You, on the other hand, have finally decided to dress up as the Second Harbinger should, instead of looking like a poor scientist who manages to stay awake only thanks to four cups of coffee.”

Dottore’s chest stirred from his deep laughter. The woman shuddered, feeling vibrations tickle her body.

“What have you done to me, Bianka? If anyone else had said it, I would have separated their head from torso, yet your words only amuse me. Will you tell me your secret?”

The woman mused.

“I read somewhere that positive feelings in a relationship increase in direct proportion to the number of threats of dismemberment and drowning in the lake.”

Dottore sniggered again.

“Then it is imperative that I increase their frequency,” he replied. Bianka peeked at him, equally surprised and curious. However, the Doctor couldn’t see this, as the upper half of her face was obscured by a mask. When their emotions subsided, she shifted her gaze to the racket.

“Are we going to take only one carriage?” she asked. Dottore nodded his head.

“That way we will move faster, which is highly advisable. After all, the train doesn’t wait for anyone.”

The researcher froze, then very slowly turned her head and looked straight into the Harbinger's face.

“The train? Are we really going to take the train?” she disbelieved. Locomotives were a relatively new invention and only the richest and most influential members of noble families could afford a ride.

Dottore snorted and glanced at her askance.

“Do you know how long it would take for us to get from here to the Zapolyarny Palace, if we travelled only by carriage? Four days,” he deadpanned, not waiting for her answer. “I guarantee you that sooner we would both go mad than reach the place safe and sound. Meanwhile, if we go to the railway station and take the train to the capital, we will reach our destination tomorrow afternoon. Such a prospect sounds much better, doesn't it?”

Bianka shifted impatiently on her feet, looking forward to the moment when she would board the ingenious machine. A few minutes later, the last crate was loaded (the woman had a strong hunch that it contained a pile of iron, which Dottore never parted with, even for a second) and the horses were harnessed to the carriage – the only thing missing were the passengers themselves.

“May your journey be swift and safe,” Rodion wished, who left the warm interior of the villa to exchange a few words with them one last time. Dottore nodded in acknowledgement.

“Take care, we'll be back soon, and may no one bother you during this time,” he bid him goodbye, then climbed the steps to the carriage. The old butler was about to wish Bianka good luck when she threw herself around his neck, surprising him enormously.

“I will miss you, you have always been so good to me,” she whispered. Rodion laughed huskily and returned the hug.

“Thank you, you're a good girl. We'll look forward to your return, but now get inside, or the ‘Raven’ will start to get anxious.” The man winked at her, at which she bared her teeth in a wide smile. Having exchanged a final goodbye, she followed Dottore into the carriage.

The interior was much more spacious, but just as dark and cosy as in her first vehicle. Bianka sat down in the vacant seat opposite Dottore, who had already taken off his mask and was watching her with an unnaturally gentle gaze. The woman also got rid of the annoying accessory and ran her hand through her hair. At that moment, the wheels clattered against the gravel and the carriage set off on its journey down the mountain.

“How far is it from here to the station?” she asked. The Doctor tilted his head slightly.

“We'll get there in about four hours,” he said matter-of-factly. Bianka tried to imagine four hours spent in a confined space with a psychopathic doctor as her only companion. The vision gave her the creeps, so she decided to occupy her thoughts with something else. She moved closer to the window and pushed back her part of the curtain to look outside. The familiar spruce and pine trees flitted single file as they approached the gloomy gate. Once again, melancholy welled up in her soul. She had spent three months in this beautiful place. A lot had happened during that time – she had fought her first battle here, sailed on a raft she had made herself, escaped from a bloodthirsty Beast and made friends with many courageous and noble people. Above all, however, she helped and learned the secrets of the Second Harbinger. Despite his difficult character, his presence had become something she took for granted; she couldn’t really imagine going back to her previous life. Too much had changed around her.

She herself was no longer the person she once was.

Soon, the warm summer days would give way to the fast approaching autumn. Heavy clouds heralding snowstorms will rule over the sky, small plants will die, birds will fly south and the animals that filled the forest with thousands of sounds will hide in their burrows. All the inhabitants of Snezhnaya will have to prepare for the return of the relentless frosts, capable of blowing out the flame of life of any being that would choose to stay in their clutches a second too long.

Suddenly, the gate closed with an ominous rasp. Bianka was so lost in thought that she didn’t notice when they left the estate. The corners of her mouth dropped as she watched the fence slowly disappear behind the trees.

“You have no reason to be sad, Bianka,” she heard Dottore's voice. “I guarantee you that this wasn’t your last time in Siniy Glaz. Turn your gaze forward now; far more interesting sights await us there.”

The woman tried to push the gloom and sentimentality to the back of her mind and instead consider what would she find at their final destination. Were all the inhabitants of the Zapolyarny Palace harsh and seasoned? Would she have the opportunity to meet other Harbingers as well? She silently hoped that Lord Pantalone would visit them again. Or maybe she would even meet some familiar face there?

All of a sudden, she straightened up, a new idea clearly in mind. Thinking about the palace's regulars reminded her of other equally brave warriors with whom she had fought side by side. She turned to Dottore with a hopeful look.

“Doctor, will we be passing through the town on our way to the railway station?” she asked. The relaxed expression on the man's face quickly gave way to a frown.

“I have ordered the carter to avoid this place so as not to attract too much attention,” he announced coolly.

“Can we maybe change the route a…”

“No, we can’t,” he snarled.

“Doctor, please!” she begged him. “I haven't seen them for weeks. I'm sure they're worried about me, especially since I disappeared so suddenly last time.”

Dottore scanned her taut as a string figure with his eyes for a long time. Finally, bombarded by her pleading, hopeful gaze, he sighed heavily and rubbed his face.

“Alright, I’ll let you have it your own way.” The man turned around and, hearing a joyful shout behind him, opened a small window that allowed contact with the coachman. “Change of route, drive through the town.”

The carter nodded his head and reined the horses.

“Satisfied?” he asked tongue-in-cheek. Bianka nodded enthusiastically.

“Thank you, Doctor, that means a lot to me.”

The Harbinger grumbled under his breath and ostentatiously turned sideways. He was, however, unable to hide his rapidly darkening ears.

As soon as they passed the first buildings, Bianka felt anxious. Dottore tried to reassure her by putting his hand on her twitching leg, but it was to no avail. Gradually, curious settlers began to poke their heads out of their houses. Accustomed to simplicity and austerity, their eyes bulged at the large, richly decorated carriage slowly making its way through the streets of their humble village.

A minute later, the vehicle stopped in the middle of the main square. Like moths flocking to the light, people began to gather around it. Bianka opened the door ready for a confrontation, but a strong grip on her shoulder stopped her from stepping outside.

“I’m giving you five minutes, otherwise we'll miss the train,” Dottore announced. “And put on your mask.”

“Why do I have to put it on? The locals know who…”

The Doctor strengthened his grip and pushed the mask with his other hand towards her, so that it rested on her chest. Bianka sighed and resignedly placed the accessory on her face. Satisfied with her obedience, the medic let go of the researcher's arm and pointed wordlessly at the door. The woman breathed deeply and left the carriage. The assembled people took a few steps back, not recognising her at first. As she descended the stairs to the ground, however, someone in the crowd shouted,

“I'll be blowed, it's our Bianka!”

Suddenly, a chorus of surprised voices resounded across the square. The researcher looked around at the faces of those gathered, sad to see that not everyone was overjoyed at her arrival. She caught a glimpse of concern on Witold’s face and reluctance in Anastaysia's gaze – the mask marked her like a stigma, leaving no doubt as to whom she swore allegiance. A few people pushed their way through the crowd, however; the woman spotted Timur's smiling face, Kira following close behind, as well as Igor, Maria the baker, Ruslan the blacksmith and serious-looking Mikhail.

“Bianka!” Timur bumped into her, almost battering her in the process, and locked her in a bear hug. “I am so happy to see you! Last time you disappeared so suddenly, I thought you'd been kidnapped by some monster!”

Bianka decided not to mention how close he was to the truth.

“Don't squeeze her so hard, or you'll strangle her,” Kira reproved him. The researcher laughed and reciprocated her friend's embrace.

“It's all right, I've dealt with challenges like this before. I’m glad too, that I could meet you one more time,” she assured. Timur stepped back and shot her a concerned look.

“’One more time?’ What do you mean? You're not going to leave us, are you?”

Something squeezed her chest as she sensed the anguish emanating from him. Before she had time to reply, Igor pulled his son back.

“Can't you see the mask or the carriage?” he barked. “She's definitely going on a mission. No offence, Bianka,” he addressed her in a much softer tone. “We were really worried about you, some more than others.” He looked meaningfully at Timur.

“I apologise for that incident,” she said sincerely. “I didn’t disappear without a word of my own accord. It's just…” Bianka wondered how to tell them that one of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers was involved. Then, Mikhail decided to speak up.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but had this something to do with your… uncle?”

The woman stilled, then hung her head sadly.

“You're not wrong, Mikhail,” she confirmed. “I assume you've guessed that I didn't really go on vacation to see my uncle.”

The mayor nodded.

“I have suspected for a long time that the residents of the old mansion are not who they say they are. Let me tell you a secret.” He leaned closer to her. “As a young boy, I was sometimes sent to the earl with news and letters. That's how I knew the previous owner had been murdered. However, I thought that the estate was bought by another representative of the noble family.”

“What are you saying?” Timur wondered. “Does that mean that the count is actually with the Fatui?”

“Your thinking is quite correct, but that's not all. The count's true identity is…”

“Bianka, time is getting on.”

From the bewildered and horrified faces of the inhabitants she realised that they recognised the distinctive silhouette of the Second Harbinger. The masked Dottore had left the carriage and, standing on the top step, was scowling at her. He was very imposing in his thick fur, emanating an unsettling aura. Bianka swallowed nervously.

“Please, give me two more minutes, my lord,” she choked out. The Doctor raised his upper lip in a growl, but relented.

“Two minutes and not a second more,” he snarled, before disappearing into the carriage.

“Was that…?” Timur began.

“Yes, but there's no time for that now,” Bianka urged. “I persuaded the Doctor to drive through the town because I wanted to say goodbye to you.” Before anyone had time to interrupt her, she continued. “I am leaving for Zapolyarny Palace; I have no idea for how long, maybe even for a few months.”

“To the Zapolyarny Palace?!” Timur failed to contain his shock. Igor gave him a nudge.

“Stop shouting like that, or you'll wake the Abyss monsters!” he reprimanded him, but the boy didn’t listen. He was already making his way through the assembled people towards the narrow streets. Kira ran after him, not hesitating.

“I'll be right back!” he exclaimed. “Don't leave without saying goodbye!”

Bianka hadn't even time to recover from her surprise when Ruslan put a big hand on her shoulder.

“I don't know how you managed to get the attention of the Second Harbinger, but I remember how bravely you fought and I know that you are a born warrior,” he said. “I have not the slightest doubt that, as long as you look out for yourself, nothing will be able to stand in your way.”

Moved by the words of the blacksmith, the researcher hugged him in gratitude.

“Thank you, Ruslan. I promise that the next time we meet, I will be able to face the entire churl camp on my own. Lord Dottore has already started training me in combat.”

“Then I'm sure he will make a great fighter out of you.” The man squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, and moved away, making room for Maria.

“Oh, poor thing, you are horribly thin!” she lamented, locking her in an embrace. “What are you going to eat there? After all, everything there is certainly frozen to stone!” Bianka smiled and closed her eyes. The protectiveness of the mighty baker, who had practically defeated an adult mitachurl on her own in the battle, amused her. She was also sure that she didn’t lack any kilos, however, she suspected that in Maria's eyes everyone looked like an anorexic. “If I had known beforehand about your departure, I would have made you your favourite biscuits.”

“Nothing wrong with that, it may be just for the better. It’ll make me even more eager to return here.”

As they bid each other farewell, Mikhail came to the forefront.

“Bianka, I am glad that you remembered us and our experiences together,” he said warmly. “I am also happy to see you whole and healthy. Timur gave us all quite a scare that day when you disappeared. However, the most important thing is that you are here with us now. Take care there, where you are going, and remember us in your prayers. And Bianka,” he leaned towards her, “never again try to hide who you really are. Good is inscribed in your being, and neither a Harbinger, nor the Fatui mark embossed on your mask will change that.”

Bianka felt tears prick her eyes, hearing such encouraging words. She nodded and bowed respectfully.

“I promise never to hide behind false masks again… or at least metaphorical ones,” she added upon reflection, to which the assembled people giggled. Then, Timur and Kira, both breathless from running, returned to the square. The boy was holding some sort of rectangular object, which he handed to Bianka without hesitation.

“Here, I painted this for you some time ago. I wanted to give it to you when you were here last time, but I didn't have the chance.”

The researcher looked at the painting depicting a mountain landscape… or at least she thought so. There were mountaintops sprinkled with snow, a forest and flowers, as well as several people holding hands who resembled the villagers. With all her willpower, Bianka held back the laughter pushing at her lips – the picture into which Timur had poured his heart brought to her mind the drawings of five-year-olds. Nevertheless, the gift pleased her greatly. She hoped she would find some room for it in her new appartement in the Zapolyarny Palace.

“Thank you, it's really… imaginative,” she replied. Timur smiled broadly, meanwhile Kira rolled her eyes.

“I'm waiting for the moment when he starts to spoil me like this.” The girl walked up to Bianka and gave her a quick hug. “Take care. At least you don't let the guys walk over you.”

The woman laughed.

“I'll try to. You, on the other hand, keep an eye on Timur so that he doesn't get into some serious trouble again.”

“I’m not sure if this isn't a task beyond my capabilities, but I'll see what I can do.” She winked knowingly and retreated into the circle. Bianka wanted to talk to her friends for several more hours, but she knew that this currency she was lacking.

“I have to go now, or else Lord Dottore will wring my neck,” she joked, trying to hide the sadness rising within her. “Await my return, I'm sure I'll see you again. In the meantime, take care of yourselves.”

Accompanied by their cheers and waving hands, she climbed the steps to the carriage. The moment she closed the door, the coachman rushed the horses and the vehicle took off. Only when the last houses had disappeared behind the trees did she close the curtains and shoot Dottore a sad but satisfied smile. Back without his mask, he watched her with a stony face.

“Thank you again for this opportunity, Doctor,” she broke the silence, putting her own mask back on the seat. The medic muttered something unintelligible.

“They seem to have high regards for you,” he remarked. “Higher than I would have suspected after only a few meetings.” All of a sudden, he leaned towards her, boring into her with ruby eyes. “Is there something I should know about that you've chosen to hide from me… again?”

Bianka crossed her legs and tilted her head.

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” she replied innocently.

“Bianka!”

“All right, all right! Someday I'll tell you, but not now.”

“Why not now?” he asked angrily. “We are alone and have nothing better to do. In my opinion, this is the perfect time to unbosom.”

“It will be perfect when we are out in the open. If I told you now, I would most likely end up as a dead meat.” Something in Dottore's eyes prompted her to change the subject immediately (she was still worried that the man was hiding potatoes in his coat, in case she crossed the line one too many times). On impulse, she pushed the Timur’s picture into his hands. “I got a farewell gift, view it for yourself.”

“I don't feel like looking at some…” The Harbinger fell silent as his gaze fell on the boy's artwork. He moved it closer to his face, carefully examining every detail. After a few seconds he looked at Bianka, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing, and shifted his gaze back to the painting. “What is this?”

“My friend's painting,” she announced.

“And why are these flowers the same height as the mountains?” he asked slowly. The woman shrugged.

“The artist's vision.”

Dottore glanced at the painting one last time and handed it back to her without a word.

“You're not going to hang that thing, are you?” he asked incredulously. “I'm not an art expert, but I don't think it would get a warm reception from… basically anyone.”

“I don't care about other people's opinions. It's a gift from a friend and I intend to hang it.”

Dottore snorted haughtily and turned towards the window.

The rest of the journey was quite uneventful. Bianka tried to engage the Doctor in conversation, but the Harbinger displayed gruffness even bigger than usual. At first, she thought it was the visit to the town that had triggered his negative emotions, but when she looked at him more closely she noticed that his face had gone pale and he himself was sitting strangely hunched over. She wondered if Dottore was in pain, or felt other discomfort, but was too afraid to broach the subject. Instead, she took a book out of her rucksack and busied herself with reading. Soon, the steep mountain slopes gave way to flat meadows and vast forests. Bianka's legs were already beginning to ache from the lack of movement, when, suddenly, they reached the tree line and a small, but impressive station building surrounded by a multitude of people appeared before her eyes.

“At last…” Dottore groaned, straightening up in his seat. Five minutes later, they were already getting out of the carriage and the coachman was helping them carry their luggage. Bianka absorbed every novelty with her eyes, and there were indeed many of them here. Right in front of the entrance to the building stood several shops and stalls selling buns, sweets, hot tea, but also newspapers, Snezhnayan ushankas, perfume and even thick woollen socks. Unable to restrain the curiosity eating away at her, she began to walk involuntarily towards them. However, she hadn’t taken even three steps before Dottore grabbed her arm.

“You're not a child anymore, try to stay still for a while,” he said. “I'm not going to chase you all over the station. If you get lost and miss the train, you'll be left behind here.”

Bianka pouted and reluctantly returned to the Doctor's side.

“Can’t I buy even one thing from the stalls?” she whined. Dottore shook his head, picking up the remaining luggage.

“There's no time to wander around, you'll buy something once we're on the train. They distribute food and drinks every now and then.”

The researcher agreed to such a concession. Laden with parcels, boxes and backpacks like professional porters, the three of them set off towards the entrance. Inside, they were greeted by a pleasant warmth and a bustle of conversation. For so long, Bianka had been in the company of at most a few people at a time, that the current hubbub had completely bedazzled her. Passengers sat on benches or walked along corridors, waiting for trains to arrive. The others, waiting in queues to the small windows, were asking for more information or buying tickets. A few heads turned towards them, their sneaky glances bewildered and shocked. ‘The Doctor is causing quite a sensation as usual,’ she thought. Her attention was drawn to the large arrivals and departures board, towering over the entire hall. She noticed that the train to the capital was already waiting on the platform. Dottore pushed her gently when he noticed that she had slowed down.

“Hurry up, I don't feel like staying among this mob any longer,” he groused. Bianka looked at him in exasperation.

“You have a very negative attitude towards people, my lord. Is there anyone in this world you don't consider commonage, plebeians or mindless multitude?”

Dottore scowled at her.

“For most of the time we've spent together, I've considered you to be an intelligent and resourceful person, but you can quickly be downgraded to the level of hoi polloi if you don't get a wriggle on!”

“Do you really think I am intelligent and resourceful?” she asked pleasantly flattered, completely ignoring the second part of his statement. Dottore snorted.

“Do you think I would let some dullard into my laboratory? If I share my experience and ideas with you, it means that I consider you worthy of this honour. Now shut your mouth hole and move your feet,” he snarled.

Without lingering any more time, they ran onto the platform where stood a shiny, pitch-black locomotive. Bianka wanted to take a closer look, but the Doctor quickly dragged her towards the entrance, where a smiling conductor greeted them. Seeing the Doctor's grim face, she gasped and bowed her head.

“Lord Harbinger, it is an honour to regale you,” she said. At once, the porters appeared and took over all the luggage from the carter. The man bowed his head and walked back to the carriage. “The private compartment is at your disposal.”

Bianka bulged her eyes.

“We are going to stay in a private compartment?” she couldn't believe.

“You act like you were born yesterday. You couldn’t have thought we'd be travelling in the company of people who snort, cough and chatter at the top of their lungs.”

If she had known beforehand that a position at the Harbinger's side would bring her so many added benefits, she certainly wouldn't have been so heartbroken at the prospect of changing jobs. But then she recalled all the times Dottore had chased her around the forest, controlled her location, and complained for eighty percent of the day, and realised that everything has its price.

“This is the compartment reserved for the highest status aristocrats and dignitaries,” the conductor pointed out. “Thank you for using our lines, it is indeed a rarity to host two Harbingers at the same time.”

Dottore stiffened.

“Wait a minute, what do you mean ‘two Harbingers’?” he asked sceptically. Instead of answering, the woman pushed open the door, showing them a spacious, heated room furnished with a sizable, round coffee table, four soft armchairs (fixed to the floor) and alcoves, where the couchettes were located behind colourful curtains. However, it was not the interior that caught their attention, but a pleasant-looking, elderly man sitting in one of the armchairs. He had long, pointy ears and an equally large nose, while his height matched that of a ten-year-old at most. When he saw them, he smiled kindly from under his bushy moustache and took off his tall, dark blue hat decorated with feathers.

“And whom do my eyes see?” he said in a hoarse voice. “Could it be that the Doctor himself has decided to grace us with his presence at the funeral?”

Dottore creased his eyebrows, which no one could see, however, and cautiously stepped inside with Bianka treading on his heels.

“It's been a long time, Pulcinella,” he made a push to exchange pleasantries. “How are you feeling? One of my segments said you were suffering from joint pains.”

Bianka's ears perked up alertly. Once again she heard this mysterious word – “segments.” She hoped she could find out more about it.

The man sighed weakly.

“Ah, unfortunately not everyone can enjoy eternal youth. But you needn't worry about me, I will be able to serve Her Majesty for many more years.” Lord Pulcinella turned his yellow eyes hidden behind round glasses to Bianka. “And who is this lovely woman you have brought with you? Won't you introduce us to each other?”

Not knowing how she should behave, she glanced nervously at her superior.

“This is Bianka Snezhevna, my personal assistant,” Dottore said. “She helps me with my experiments and creates poisons in her spare time. This old campaigner, on the other hand, is Lord Pulcinella, codename ‘The Rooster,’ Fifth of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers.”

The woman bowed, showing respect to the older man.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Lord Pulcinella,” she replied politely.

“Oh, and how well-behaved. This is surely the work of Lady Arlecchino, isn't it?”

Bianka laughed and lowered her head shyly.

“It's true, ‘Father’ always demanded impeccable manners from us.”

Suddenly, the carriage rocked and rolled out of the platform, quickly gaining speed. Bianka wobbled, caught off-guard by the sudden jerk, but Dottore grabbed her and helped her reach the seat located nearest the window.

“Sit here and don't wriggle, or you'll fall down and smash your head,” he threw sternly. Had they not been accompanied by a third person, a long argument would have immediately broken out between them. However, the researcher did not want to reveal too quickly the nature of their relation. She knew that she should not trust the other Harbingers, for each of them put their own goals before the welfare of the Fatui. Instead, she looked outside, watching with fascination the world rushing past the window.

Dottore put all the bags in a small alcove in the corner of the room, then sank down into the armchair next to Bianka with a sigh of relief. The woman waited to see if he would remove his mask in the presence of another Harbinger, but he showed no sign of any intention to do so. She realised that she too should keep her own on.

“How long will we be travelling for?” she asked.

“All night. I advise you to relax, because as soon as we're in the laboratory, we'll get straight down to business.”

‘Of course, after all, you wouldn't be able to sit still and not think for even a few seconds,’ she thought, rolling her eyes. Suddenly, Pulcinella became animated and reached into the bag he kept by his seat.

“Since we're locked in here for the next several hours, I've got a great proposition to kill some time.” He placed a box of cards on the table. They were not those belonging to the increasingly popular game, originating from distant Sumeru, but the usual black and red ones. Bianka smiled; she couldn’t imagine a serious and aged Rooster collecting the colourful cards so popular with youngsters all over the continent. “Who's willing to play a few rounds of poker?”

The Doctor ignored his words and gazed out of the window with a sullen face, while Bianka looked curiously at the cards.

“I'm willing, but I have to ask for the rules’ explanation,” she said. For the next two hours, she tried to use the knowledge she had acquired to gain an advantage over her opponent, but Pulcinella had no intention of making it easy for her. From time to time, she glanced at Dottore, who remained weirdly silent. Seeing his pale face and grimace of pain, she realised that his earlier discomfort had returned. Pulcinella also noticed this and shook his head with sympathy.

“I understand that you still haven't managed to find an effective antidote for your affliction,” he spoke up. Dottore was already preparing to hiss some witty retort out, when suddenly the whole carriage shook heavily. The man became even paler and wordlessly turned towards the window. Bianka drew closer to Pulcinella and asked in a whisper:

“Do you know what ails him, my lord?”

The Rooster also lowered his voice and explained:

“For as long as I remember, Dottore has suffered from motion sickness. He is usually able to control it, but not when it’s shaking so hard.”

Bianka gasped, understating the situation. After a brief moment's consideration, she patted Dottore on the shoulder to get his attention. The man turned very slowly towards her. His face took on a suspiciously greenish hue.

“I think I know how to make you a little less uncomfortable, my lord.” She smiled. “Please, give me your hands.”

Dottore looked at her sceptically.

“For what purpose?”

“Trust me, I won't hurt you.” She slowly reached out and grasped his hands. “I need to slide your gloves down a little, just enough to expose your wrists.” Bianka waited for his silent acquiescence. After a moment's hesitation, the Doctor nodded almost imperceptibly. The woman took off the gloves, being careful not to expose too much skin, and probed his wrists with her thumbs. Finally, having found the areas she was interested in, she put more pressure to them and held.

“This technique comes from Liyue,” she explained to reassure him. “I can't remember exactly the process, but applying pressure to certain specific areas on the body can improve the well-being of those suffering from your ailment. Of course, there is no one hundred percent certainty that it will prove effective, but it’s always worth a try.”

The medic didn’t comment. All three waited with keen interest for even the slightest results. After a while, Dottore moved his shoulders.

“I think it's actually working, I feel better now.” His voice gained strength and certainty, by which the researcher recognised that he wasn’t trying to play Jack-the-lad, but was telling the truth. She bared her teeth in a smile.

“I'm glad, I wouldn't want to listen to you groan for the whole journey.” The corners of the Doctor's mouth instantly dropped. A stifled chuckle rang out across the table. Bianka released his hands and began to rummage through her backpack. She took out two bands and put them on his wrists. “I bought these a long time ago, in case I had to go on a long journey, exactly like this one. Don't take them off until we get to the capital, and the discomfort should go away.”

Dottore didn’t take his eyes off her even for a second. If it weren't for the mask, she would have seen a real hurricane of emotions in them. Surprise, embarrassment, but also gratitude and affection – feelings that had supposedly disappeared from his range years ago. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Unnoticeably, he turned his head towards Pulcinella, who was watching them with an inscrutable face. Bianka sensed the Doctor's message and squeezed his hand under the table. She was startled when, after a few seconds, the medic reciprocated the grip. Clearly she hadn’t managed to fully hide her emotions – wrinkles appeared around the Fifth Harbinger's eyes as he smiled warmly.

“I think I already understand why it was Bianka that you appointed as your assistant,” he said mysteriously.

From that moment on, Dottore's mood improved considerably. He was much more willing to answer his companions' questions, took an interest in the Rooster’s activities, and even allowed them to be persuaded to play a few rounds of Mau Mau. The researcher was surprised to realise that the Doctor wasn't lacking in skill at card games either – when he wanted to, he could be a dangerous opponent. Using his innate cunning, he beat them into a cocked hat time and time again. An hour later, a stranger approached them with an offer of a warm meal. Within ten minutes, plates full of steaming food were placed in front of the unusual passengers. The silence has set in, broken only by the occasional smack or clatter of a fork against a plate (Bianka praised Dottore in her mind, who tried to comply to the rules of savoir-vivre in Pulcinella's presence). Suddenly, the man gently poked her with his arm and slipped something into her hand. Casting a quick glance at the gift, she realised that he had given her two chocolates. She had long suspected that Dottore was fond of sweets and always took small treats with him for a rainy day. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and smiled, noticing his darkened cheeks. She knew the present was a thank you for an earlier act of kindness on her part. She tucked the sweetmeats into her pocket to store for later.

Before they knew it, evening had arrived, followed by a frosty night. It began to snow lightly at first, which quickly turned into a raging blizzard. Dottore stretched his stiff muscles.

“Well, it's high time we go to bed,” he said. Bianka whined like a disgruntled child, displeased by its parents' orders.

“But Lord Pulcinella was about to tell me how he had escaped a whole herd of polar bears with only a pocket knife and his own shrewdness!”

“Don't wail like that, Pulcinella will surely agree to recount the story in the morning. You need to get some sleep and replenish your energy for tomorrow.”

Bianka frowned, but silently agreed with the Doctor. After assuring her that “a story isn’t a hare, it won't run anywhere,” she excused herself and headed to the bathroom to change. When she returned, two of the couchettes were already occupied. She glanced at Pulcinella, who was reading a book and whose eyes were sticky with fatigue, and at dishevelled Dottore, who was still stubbornly wearing his mask. Suddenly, the vision of Tsaritsa's fearsome warriors, who could break her in half like a dry stick, was gone. The only vacant bed was above the Doctor's couchette. Bianka headed towards it and, having climbed the ladder, quickly disappeared under the duvet. Not five seconds have passed when his abrasive words reached her:

“If you fall on me, you will spend the rest of the night on the floor.”

The woman giggled.

“Don't worry, Doctor,” she muttered. “I promise that if I feel the urge to fly off the bed at night, I'll aim for the middle of the compartment.”

Dottore didn’t reply, but she knew him well enough to sense that the words brought a smile to his face. Remembering about the chocolates, she took one out and ate it in two bites.

“You should brush your teeth a second time now,” she heard his comment from downstairs. She smiled.

“It's bold of you to assume that I have washed them in the first place,” she replied teasingly, watching Lord Pulcinella, who had fallen asleep with the book still resting on his lap. Dottore snorted and blew out the candle beside the couchette, without gracing Bianka with even a simple “Good night.” She knew she should be asleep by now, but she felt too much excitement. She leaned slightly out from behind the edge of the bed, noticing that the medic had finally taken off his mask and was eyeing her with an annoyed look. She realised with satisfaction that he was still wearing her bands.

“Doctor?”

The man sighed.

“Yes, Bianka?” he drawled grumpily.

“Is the laboratory in the Zapolyarny Palace bigger than the one in Siniy Glaz?”

“Bianka, go to sleep now or I'll lard you with ether,” he growled and turned towards the wall. The researcher didn’t feel like being larded with a foreign substance, so she went back under the duvet and stared at the snowflakes flitting past the window.

“Good night, Doctor,” she whispered, turning off the lamp and closing her eyes. The whistle of the train and the gentle rocking soon lulled her to sleep. She realised that Dottore had said something, but she was too tired to distinguish the different words.

“İyi geceler, tatlı rüyalar…”

The train sped through the black night, fighting the gale winds and snow which tried to stand in its way. Nothing was able to stop it however. Steadfastly, it pushed forward towards the distant stars and the colourful lights dancing in the sky.

Into the unknown...

END OF ACT I

Chapter Text

ACT II

THE QUEEN'S PALACE

Bianka felt something not very gently poke her shoulder. An indignant groan slipped from her lips. She turned towards the wall. The bed was so delightfully soft and warm… better than that icy air that crept in through the window into the compartment. There was no point in getting up.

An amused snort sounded behind her. “Get up, Bianka, or you'll sleep through the whole day,” the Doctor's voice rang out.

“Five more minutes…” she muttered, snuggling into the duvet.

Dottore shook her again. “Do you know what time it is? Me and Pulcinella have been on our feet for two hours already. If we were still in Siniy Glaz, I'd have you do a penalty lap along the fence for being so late.”

Seeing that she wouldn’t be able to convince the medic to give her some peace, she turned back towards him and opened her sleepy eyes. He was just tall enough to reach the level of her head.

“You can't blame me for being tired,” she said, yawning after he looked at her condescendingly. “If it weren't for your snoring, which shook the windows and roused me from sleep every now and then, I would be fresh and rested as usual.”

Dottore spat and crossed his arms. “I don't snore,” he replied petulantly.

Bianka snorted with laughter. “Oh, you snore, snore…”

“I have to agree with your assistant.” Pulcinella joined the conversation. “I thought that, by some miracle, a bear had made its way into our compartment until I realised it was simply your nocturnal noises,” he sniggered.

“It's a miracle you didn't wake up yourself,” she added, hiding her own smile.

Dottore shook his head angrily and threw off Bianka’s duvet. “Enough, I understand the message!” She shuddered as the chill hit her warm body. “Get down and change into proper clothing. We'll arrive at our destination in about an hour, by which time you should look like a human being, not a hungover, desperate woman who's just been dumped by her lover.”

Bianka puffed and begrudgingly rolled out of bed, feeling Dottore’s eyes as she walked to the window and looked out. Fatigue quickly gave way to excitement, though, as she caught sight of the slender silhouettes of towers and spires in the distance, beneath which stretched a vast city.

“Is this the capital?” she asked, fascinated.

“What else would it be? Of course it's the capital. Now get the hell out of here, and don't come back until you're washed and changed!” The Doctor said, pressing her uniform into her hands and pushing her out into the corridor.

The door banged with a sense of finality. Bianka was unconcerned by the Harbinger's behaviour, however, and rushed to the bathroom without hesitation.

Before she knew it, the train was already stopping at a sheltered platform, much larger and grander than the one from which they had departed. Chased by Dottore’s angry shouts, the researcher raced out of the carriage and looked around, enchanted. How many new faces, sounds, and smells were here! People were running to their trains, strolling along the tracks, or occupying the surrounding benches, killing time with conversation.

The loud screech of a siren interrupted her thoughts, making her cringe then laugh. Without waiting for her travelling companions, she moved towards the exit to the main hall where she was greeted by an even greater bustle and squeeze. There were so many travellers that no one paid any attention to the lone member of the Fatui – something fine by her. It allowed her to observe this part of city life without any interruptions.

Suddenly, she saw a door leading outdoors into the big world. Behind them stretched the dazzling whiteness and the foggy outlines of huge edifices, housing bakeries, pharmacies, clothes shops, boutiques, and many, many more. With a sudden itch, need to move, she rushed towards the unknown.

Or rather, she would have rushed if someone hadn't grabbed her by the neck and shook her hard.

“Try to escape like that again, and you'll spend the rest of the way in one of the crates!” Dottore shouted fiercely.

‘Well, that’s the end of the incognito mode,’ Bianka thought as it abruptly got quieter around them, the people standing closest to them taking a few steps away.

“You're being a bit too hard on her,” Pulcinella stated, coming up from behind. “It's your first time in the big city, isn't it, Bianka?”

She nodded her head, then turned her eyes towards the Doctor’s disgruntled face. “Apologies, my lord, I got a bit carried away.”

“If I got one Mora for every time you ‘got a little carried away,’ I'd be richer than Pantalone,” he responded, loosening his grip. “Stay close to me. In a place like the Capital, it's easy to lose your bearings.”

Bianka decided to heed Dottore's advice and not stray any further. The man unceremoniously gave her two bags and her own rucksack before they all headed for the exit. The researcher kept two steps behind, watching with amusement as the crowd parted before them. The assembled people stared at their not-so-large retinue with big eyes, one elderly lady moving away so quickly that she tripped on an uneven tile and bumped into two men smoking cigars. Bianka couldn’t understand this at all – were they really that afraid of a man who got motion sickness on the train and smacked while eating?

There were the rumours. She herself had been influenced by them the day the Doctor arrived at the Main Research Institute. But hopefully people could recognize how much these so-called truths have been blown out of proportion.

The Capital welcomed them with a freezing gale and ankle-deep snow. Having lived in the south of the country for the last quarter, she had become disaccustomed to the soft, cold powder. However, she knew that closer to the palace the snowstorms hardly ever subsided, so the sooner she adjusted back to the winter environment, the better.

As she deeply inhaled the cool air, she realised with distaste that it reeked of smoke and fumes. Eyes darting around, she noticed tall chimneys in the distance, from which clouds of black smog billowed. This must have been one of the factories producing equipment for homes or weapons for the Fatui, for which the technologically developed Snezhnaya was famous.

Much closer, in the centre of the town, she spotted a huge, red brick building with a pitched roof. In the middle of the wall facing them was a circular clock that looked like it was hundreds of years old, the sound of a bell ringing through the town.

“I'll leave you here; I still have some business to attend to at the town hall,” Pulcinella said, pointing to the building. “I'll see you in a few days for the funeral. Have a peaceful journey. May the everlasting storms cease for the duration of your passage.”

Having said this, he walked away with a brisk step. As soon as he was out of sight, Dottore put his hand on Bianka's shoulder and pointed in the opposite direction.

“And we will go straight to the palace,” he declared. “We need to catch a carriage that will take us there. There are usually several of them waiting for potential customers on the other side of the station.”

Bianka nodded, and together, they went in search of a source of transport. On the way, she looked around at the shops they passed, but whenever she slowed down to take a closer look at some display, Dottore would hasten her with a few harsh words. At the same time, she discreetly observed the reactions of passers-by to the presence of the Second Harbinger. Common residents moved away from them, glancing at them with concern. Whereas when they encountered members of the Fatui, they would freeze and bow to their general, who, however, didn’t pay the slightest attention to them. She also noticed a few curious glances cast in her direction; unconsciously, she moved closer to the Doctor.

Having rounded the station building, before their eyes appeared a cobbled driveway, where several coachmen were waiting by their carriages, just as Dottore had said.

“Alright, now all we have to do is choose one and state our destination. That shouldn't be difficult; I'm sure any of these peasants will be delighted to transport one of the Harbingers. Let's try there first…”

But Bianka did not listen to him, for among the carters, she caught sight of one very familiar face. With a broad smile, she ran towards a scrawny man who was reading a newspaper while leaning against the carriage.

“Fyodor!” she called out. The alarmed coachman raised his head, but before he could discern who was calling him, he was locked in a strong embrace. The man wheezed and leaned against the wooden wall to keep his balance. But when he saw Bianka's delighted face, he burst out laughing.

“Blimey, I didn't suspect I'd meet you here, missy!” Fyodor said. “Which is not to say that it's not a pleasant meeting. I see you've brought an unusual guest with you.”

The researcher looked at the Doctor, whose face contorted into a grimace as he walked towards them.

“I remember you,” he muttered. “It was you who took us to Siniy Glaz, am I right?”

Fyodor bowed daintily. “It’s a real honour to know that I have remained in the mind of such a distinguished person as you, my lord. Will my services be needed now as well?”

“We have to get to the palace. Are your horses fast enough to get us there before nightfall?”

“Of course! They will get you there even faster!” Fyodor opened the carriage door and pointed to the entrance. “Come in.”

Dottore looked at Bianka with an inscrutable expression, then climbed the steps inside. The researcher thanked Fyodor, to which he winked, and followed the Harbinger.

“What a surprise to meet Fyodor here,” she remarked as the carriage stirred. “This world is not so big after all.”

The Doctor mumbled something unintelligible under his breath and put on his motion-sickness wristbands.

“I’m sorry?” Bianka asked.

“I told you not to run off like that,” he groused louder. “Forget about doing something like that in the Zapolyarny Palace. You don't realise how much danger you would be in if you wandered away without my knowledge. Do you remember what I told you about the other Harbingers?”

She remembered. Immediately, she turned serious. “I understand, Doctor. I'll be on my guard from now on.”

He shook his head. “That won’t suffice. You are to swear here and now that you will obey my every command, and speak only to those I deem trustworthy,” he replied firmly. Bianka hesitated but finally placed her right hand over her heart.

“I swear to obey all your orders and not to act alone without your knowledge and consent,” she vowed.

Dottore relaxed.

“And may you never forget this moment…” he muttered and shifted his gaze to the landscape outside their carriage.

****

After about two hours, the climate outside the window began to change. The frost coating the windows made it nearly impossible to see outside, especially after getting covered with rime. But Bianka could feel how strong the wind was with how much the carriage was wobbling from side to side.

“We’re close now,” Dottore informed without taking his eyes off the window.

Bianka moved closer, managing to see the outline of a massive building in the distance. Not much more could be discerned – all she could notice was that the palace was several storeys high and occupied a vast space.

The Doctor turned to her. “Do you remember our agreement?”

“Of course,” she replied, nodding her head.

“When we arrive at the entrance, you will take your things, stand upright, and await further instructions. Try not to look left and right like a newborn foal; we will definitely be under observation, so you must make a good first impression. And wear this so that you don't turn into an icicle as soon as you leave the carriage.”

Dottore handed her a thick fur coat, similar to those worn by the Harbingers, but without ornamentation or additional emblems. The only element indicating her affiliation was the Fatui logo embossed on the left lapel. Bianka thanked him and, with some difficulty caused by the small space, put on the coat (almost breaking the man's nose with her elbow in the process).

Fifteen minutes later, the snowstorm subsided. Dottore explained that the blizzards surrounding the palace provided a barrier to any uninvited guests. Now that they were at most a kilometre away from the building, such protections were not needed.

Before Bianka knew it, they were already passing through the large, ornate gate.

At last, they arrived at the home of Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa – the Zapolyarny Palace.

As the carriage stopped near the great doors, Dottore grabbed Bianka's arm. “Keep half a step behind me, but don't lower your head. You are not some minor sergeant but the Second Harbinger’s right hand. The others need to know that they can't mess with you without consequences. Now put on your mask, and let's go.”

Having covered their faces, Dottore opened the door. The woman grabbed her backpack, stepped out into the biting cold, and stood to attention as she’d been commanded. While a swarm of servants flocked around the Doctor, the researcher tried to look around as discreetly as she could.

The palace was so tall that she had to tilt her head to see it in its full glory. She was greeted by hundreds of reflective windows – a nerve-wracking sight considering some curious observers might be hiding behind them right now. The entire building looked as if it had been carved from crystal, interspersed here and there with gold and white marble. A soaring tower rose from the far end of the palace, topped by a large star shining with a delicate yellow glow.

The entire building was extremely striking, to say the least. Ornate, and beautiful, and massive. Bianka felt overwhelmed by the sheer size of it. She needed to familiarise herself with the layout of the various rooms and halls as soon as possible. The last thing she would want would be to wander into a place she shouldn’t be.

A member of the service handed her a small rectangular box, bringing her out of her thoughts.

“Lord Dottore said to give this case to you, my lady,” they explained, the reverence in their voice instantly catching her off guard. “It contains dangerous reagents.”

It took her several moments to snap out of amazement and realise that the box must store the test tubes full of poisons she had been working on in Siniy Glaz. But before she had time to thank them, Dottore summoned her with a flick of his hand. Before rushing to the Harbinger’s side, she still managed to make eye contact with Fyodor, who was cocooned in clothing from head to toe. Only his eyes, which were scrunched up in a smile were visible. Raising his hand goodbye, he led the horses to the stables. Bianka wanted to reciprocate the gesture, but the Doctor had already walked briskly towards the stately, richly decorated doors.

“Il Dottore, Second of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers!” he announced himself. As if by magic, the doors groaned and slowly opened to their full width, blinding them with the radiance emanating from within. Without hesitating, the Doctor stepped inside. Bianka followed him, remembering to hold her head high.

They were greeted by a large, circular, and almost empty vestibule. What first caught Bianka’s attention was the absolute silence. Several people were milling around, but they stood so close together that not even a murmur of their conversation reached her. The floor was covered with tiles decorated with paintings of snowflakes, with a large Fatui symbol in the centre of the room. When she looked up, she saw a large glass dome letting in the rays of the sun now hidden behind the clouds. Just in front of them was a wide staircase covered in bright blue fabric, leading to the upper floors. Dottore passed it and headed for one of the many corridors stretching into different parts of the palace.

He broke the silence as they walked. “Try to remember this path. The main hall is where you can most easily and quickly get to every other room. The corridor we are in now leads to a complex entirely owned by me.” He laughed briefly. “Most of the inhabitants avoid this area by a wide margin, but for you, contrary to what common sense might say, it is the safest place in the whole castle. As long as you are careful, no harm should come to you here. I’ll show you your new room now, and then we’ll go to the laboratory.”

Bianka hummed in agreement. The corridor was empty and windowless; the pale blue walls further intensified the feeling of cold still permeating every centimetre of her body. The only sources of light were small lamps attached to the walls at intervals of several metres, which lit up in response to their movement. They looked similar to the ones that illuminated the Siniy Glaz; the familiarity offered her some comfort. Smaller passages diverged from the main corridor from time to time, but they kept walking ahead.

“They lead to vacant rooms or less important parts of the complex,” Dottore explained. “You’ll be able to explore them at your leisure.”

Bianka noticed that the Doctor was much calmer already. It wasn’t a surprise; after all, they were in his personal kingdom, where he didn't have to listen to anyone's orders but could indulge in his favourite hobby – experimenting.

Finally, they reached the stairs leading downwards. Bianka glanced at them uncertainly. They were long and dark (she couldn’t even see the last step) and clearly would lead them deep underground into what was sure to be a frigid area.

“Come,” Dottore barked.

Bianka quickly followed, halting in surprise halfway down when she began to feel too warm in her thick fur.

Dottore was waiting for her at the foot of the stairs, a smile gracing his face. “Surprised by the change in temperature?” he teased before walking up to the wall. “Look here.” He pointed to the orange lines running on either side of the corridor. “Go on, touch it, don't be afraid.”

Bianka approached the glowing line and put her hand to it, delighted to find that it emanated a pleasant warmth. She looked at the Doctor.

“I invented them together with Sandrone,” he continued as silent admiration bubbled in her chest. “They use the Ley Lines’ energy and convert it into heat. They run in all the underground corridors and where the temperatures are extremely cold.”

Dottore moved on, quickly disappearing into the surrounding darkness, the only evidence of his presence the soft light emanating from his earring. Bianka followed, not taking her hand off the warm wall.

At one point, they passed a corridor diverging from the main passage, much wider than the others. The researcher glanced curiously into its depths but didn’t manage to discern anything – the blackness carefully concealed the Second Harbinger’s secrets. After a while of walking in absolute silence, they reached another staircase, this time leading upwards. Just as Bianka began to fear that the stairs would go on forever, she saw a rectangle of light above her. Having finally reached the last step, she realised that they had come back to the surface. The glow she noticed from below came from two windows illuminating a short passage that led to a solitary door. Dottore stepped aside to make room for her and handed her one of the keys from the metal ring he pulled from his coat pocket.

“Ladies first,” he said gallantly.

Bianka snorted with amusement. “Since when did you become so polite?” she muttered quietly. Taking the key, she walked over to the warm brown door and unlocked it.

She sighed dazedly as she looked around the new room. She had never been in such a large and chicly furnished suite before, for there was no other way to call this place. There was a large, double bed (a painting above it depicting a mountain landscape that suspiciously resembled Siniy Glaz) with a fuchsia-coloured canopy standing just below a wide window, now obscured by creamy curtains. To the left was a white door, next to which stood an oblong chest of drawers and a spacious wardrobe. On the other side was a marble fireplace, with two soft armchairs facing a coffee table positioned in front. And then, closer to the main entrance, was another door on the right, the purpose of which Bianka was unsure.

Each piece of furniture was made of high-quality teak wood without any overwhelming excessive decoration, complemented by a soft, dark red carpet embossed with flower patterns. These warm colours, permeating every corner, made her feel immediately at home.

“I gather from your reaction that you like your new room. I thought you would prefer it to have windows, so I left you the one above the main complex,” Dottore said, who had been waiting patiently for Bianka to survey the room.

She turned to him, her mouth gaping in amazement. “This is my new room? All for me?”

The Doctor tilted his head and peered at her inquisitively. “What did you expect? Some three-by-three-metre box with no heating?” Bianka decided to keep quiet about the fact that this was exactly how she imagined her own flat for the next few months. “You are far too modest and unaware of your status. Staying here will be good for you. You can inspect the rest of the apartment later; for now, just leave your things here and we’ll go straight to the lab. Don’t forget about your test tube container.”

After a long moment, Bianka finally managed to shake herself off. She threw her rucksack on the bed, took the box, and followed the Doctor. They set off, returning underground before walking down a long corridor, turning into the wide passage that had caught her eye earlier. It led them to a wide metal door that looked exceptionally sturdy. Dottore took off his glove and put his hand to a panel attached to the wall. The screen turned from blue to green; the lock clicked loudly.

“Once you’ve had time to inspect the lab, I’ll program the reader so that you’ll be able to get inside without my help.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “I don't suppose I have to tell you that you can't bring anyone in here?”

Bianka shook her head, well aware of the honour she was about to receive. “Of course, I won’t let you down.” Undoubtedly no one but the Doctor himself was allowed beyond that door.

Dottore murmured contentedly and stepped inside without a word. Bianka followed him cautiously, looking around the studio as soon as she passed its threshold. Instead of the expected satisfaction or curiosity, she felt surprise and then disappointment. This laboratory was smaller than the one in Siniy Glaz. Its only furnishings were a sizeable desk that also served as a workshop (deducing from a few cogs and a wrench lying on the tabletop), two large vertical capsules (now empty), and an operating table. There was a second door, but it probably just led to a storeroom, meaning there wasn’t the space or the right conditions here to create and work on toxins. She had always thought that the Harbinger’s position meant a life of comfort and abundance. This room showcased the opposite. Wanting to voice her concerns, she turned to Dottore, but stopped when she saw him at that second door, near which she noticed a similar panel to the one outside. Dottore repeated the previous trick and unlocked the entrance, behind which laid… another dark corridor.

“So there is something else at all?” she asked.

Dottore turned towards her. Bianka couldn’t see his eyes, but she had a feeling that his gaze was heavy. “Did you really think I had made so many breakthroughs in this sorry little room?” He sighed with resignation. “You must be very tired after your journey if you come up with such absurd ideas. Let’s go now, we have a lot of things to discuss.”

The darkness engulfed him before devouring Bianka too. She glanced behind, watching the only source of light move away with each of their steps.

“In that case, what’s that workshop there for?” Bianka asked, looking back at Dottore. “If you’ve got a much bigger and better-equipped lab, it probably stands empty most of the time.”

“It’s used to receive possible… visitors,” he replied. “Mostly messengers, sometimes a physician or a scientist. That way, I don’t have to worry about them seeing something they shouldn’t.”

Bianka hummed with understanding. Surely the real lab contained a lot of secrets and sensitive data that could not fall into the wrong hands under any circumstances.

A moment later, the passageway ended, opening up into a huge hall, mostly plunged into darkness. The only sources of light were a few lamps replacing the skirting boards and a single fluorescent light deep in the room. She couldn’t see the details, but she thought she discerned the shape of a few tables set against the wall and the outline of some huge silhouette towering over the entire hall.

“Why is it so dark in here?” Dottore growled. Apparently, he did not expect a response, as he grumbled angrily and continued, “Dimwits, all I have to do is leave them alone for five seconds, and they’re already loafing around… Wait here, Bianka. I’ll go turn on the light. Don’t touch anything.”

The researcher stayed put while the Doctor descended a few metal steps to the main level and walked off into the darkness. She wondered who the Second Harbinger was actually complaining about. Was it possible that someone else worked here? If so, she knew nothing about these mysterious scientists.

Suddenly, a crunching sound echoed in the room. Alarmed, she turned her head towards one of the tables. ‘What the…?’ went through her mind. Something was moving behind the workshop. A pang of fear stabbed through her guts, her heart racing as she heard a quiet chonk followed by slow chewing. Could it be some bloodthirsty monster that had escaped from its cage, caught up with some poor thing, and was now devouring its bones? No. That wouldn’t make sense – Dottore wouldn’t allow such a thing to escape. Were here even any monsters at all? Moreover, the air was crisp, without any trace of blood or death.

But what was it, then?

She felt an overwhelming urge to find out what was making that disturbing sound. With her muscles stiffened to the limit, Bianka descended the stairs and, trying to move as quietly as a hunting predator, inched towards the table. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a simple flashlight on the tabletop and snatched it after putting down the box (against Dottore’s orders). She could distinguish the dark shape of a huddled figure now; relief hit her when she realized it was much smaller than her. In the event of a fight, she should be able to deal with it.

Passing the corner of the table, she quickly switched on the flashlight and directed the beam towards the stranger.

Bianka stared at the crouching figure, trying to understand what she was actually seeing. In front of her was a small boy who could not have been more than ten years old. He was watching her with big eyes; his whole face was smeared with some brown goo and crumbs. Only now did she notice that he was clutching dozens of chocolates and marmalade cakes, his cheeks swollen as if another dozen sweets were in his mouth.

A child’s presence in the Second Harbinger’s laboratory was unexpected, but that wasn’t what shocked her so much. What truly astounded her was that his appearance, from his aquiline face to the dark skin, was an exact copy of Lord Dottore.

The boy tried to swallow a humungous bite of food, still guarding a mountain of sweetness that would have caused terror with any dentist. “Buf y’ won' tell fe mafter?” he sputtered.

“What...?” Bianka took a few steps away, utterly confused. But before she could process what she was seeing, the lamps that filled every nook and cranny of the laboratory suddenly lit up and blinded her, revealing something much more frightening. From the adjacent corridors and pathways leading to even deeper parts of the complex, more people began to emerge. They all had two things in common: they were male and looked like the same person in different stages of life. Counting the boy in, there were four of them. Bianka stared at their pale blue hair, blood-red eyes, and the oblong earrings dangling from each man’s right ear while retreating towards the exit. The men were faster than her, however, and shortened the distance separating them in a flash.

Abruptly, Bianka hit her back against something hard. She tilted her head and stared into the Doctor's equally ruby but much more familiar eyes. He smiled jauntily, baring his teeth, and placed his hands on her shoulders.

“Welcome to my humble abode, Bianka."

Chapter Text

Bianka looked wildly from side to side, unsure how to behave in such a situation. She had never liked being the centre of attention, and having five pairs of eyes drilling into her was definitely not helping her relax. Unwillingly, she made eye contact with some of the… siblings? Twins? ‘Nonsense,’ she thought. ‘Even twins don’t look that much like each other.’

When she was about to collapse due to sheer astonishment, Dottore pushed her slightly towards the men. “This is Bianka Snezhevna,” he introduced. “She will act as our assistant.”

“Yes, we know,” one of the strangers spoke up. “You mentioned her at least five times in the last few days.”

Bianka furrowed her brows. Dottore had told them about her? Multiple times? But he had never once left Siniy Glaz during their time together, and she didn’t think she’d ever seen him write a letter, especially in the last few days. There was no way they could have known about her role and relationship with him. And yet, there was not even a trace of surprise on their faces, only curiosity.

As well as hostility. And fear. Bianka swallowed loudly.

Suddenly, the youngest of the strangers, a boy dressed in a celadon jacket, black shorts, and sandals typical for the people of Sumeru, the same one whose face was still stained with chocolate, approached her and kicked her in the shin. Bianka screamed in pain, massaging the sensitive spot, while Dottore let out an angry growl.

“Hey, what are you thinking?!” he roared at the boy. “You’re cleaning all the rooms in the basement for that. And don’t think I can’t see the chocolates you’re so pathetically trying to hide behind your back. You know that my stores are off-limits to you; I’ll knock the living daylights out of you for that later!”

Instead of showing fear, the boy burst into a pearly laughter and threw the sweets into the air before running off towards one of the corridors.

“Don’t go there, One!” another stranger shouted. He was younger than Dottore, dressed in a long, dark turquoise and white robe decorated with gold patches and a beret of the same colour. Bianka recalled how two similarly dressed men had visited her old research centre one day. They were Driyosh – itinerant scientists from the extremely prestigious Sumeru Akademiya. This boy had probably managed to earn himself a place in their ranks too. Just what was he doing in the Zapolyarny Palace, then? Dottore didn’t like any intellectual competition; it didn’t make sense.

Bianka made eye contact with him and was taken aback when she saw distrust, fear even, lurking in his gaze. It didn’t bode well for future cooperation. Trust was of the utmost importance.

The young man gave them one last desperate glance, before turning away and dashing in the boy’s wake.

Bianka was ready to ask Dottore a hundred questions, but then another stranger approached her, the one who gave her a hostile look earlier. He was slightly taller than her, his hair curly rather than wavy, dressed in long black trousers and a dark shirt over which he had thrown an ash-coloured jacket. He didn’t look much older than the student, but he exuded a completely different aura.

Suddenly, in a movement so quick that it blurred in her eyes, the man grabbed her chin and lifted her face.

“Easy now, Four…” Dottore warned, tightening his grip on Bianka’s shoulders. She didn’t need to turn around to know that even he was tense.

Four didn’t reply, gently turning her head instead, watching her from all sides. Suddenly, all animosity disappeared, replaced by an expression of boredom; he slowly took his hand away and retreated two steps. “I don’t like her,” he commented briefly.

Dottore mumbled something under his breath, but his grip eased. Despite the unfavourable words, the danger had passed.

“Don’t judge her too hastily, Four, we still haven’t seen her work. Who knows, maybe she comes out to be a surprise after all.”

Bianka directed her gaze to the last man. He was much older than the rest, with shorter, already thinning hair and wearing a snow-white smock. Caution filled his sharp eyes, but there was also a kind of gentleness that she didn’t see in the others. She didn’t need to fear him, that she knew.

The man approached her and extended his hand in greeting. “They call me Eight. I am the eldest of Lord Dottore’s Segments. I’m glad we’re finally able to meet, Bianka.”

Segment… She had heard the word before and seen it in Dottore’s diary but was still unsure of its meaning.

Smiling as much as her battered nerves would allow, Bianka shook his wrinkled hand. “Hello, Eight. It’s nice to meet you too.” she replied politely. With barely visible amusement painted on Eight’s face, he bowed his head slightly and stepped aside, stopping next to the one he called Four.

Dottore faced her, smiling with satisfaction. “I’m sure you have many questions now.” Many was a bit of an understatement. “It’s about time you found out a little about my biggest secret.”

“The Segments?” she guessed.

Dottore nodded. “Come, let’s sit over there at the table. And you two,” he said, addressing the other men, “get back to work.”

Four left with a quiet snort, while Eight stood firmly in place.

“I would rather listen to what you have to say,” he stated. “If you don’t mind, of course.”

Dottore glanced at Bianka, the question clearly visible in his eyes. Surprised that he was interested in her opinion, she shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t see any problem.”

“It’s decided, then.” He nodded at Eight before the three of them headed towards one of the workbenches. Dottore sat down on a stool, giving the other to Bianka, while Eight stood a step behind him.

For a moment that seemed to last an eternity, Dottore was silent, immersed in thought. Just when Bianka was about to turn into a bomb with a lit fuse, emotion and tension filling her to the brim, the Harbinger finally started his story.

“I think that for you to have a better understanding of everything, I should tell you a little about my past. I won’t go into too much detail; there is neither the time nor the need for that.”

Bianka’s eyes widened. If Dottore was prepared to share such intimate information with her, it meant that he trusted her more than she thought. Taking off her mask, she promised herself that she would not disappoint him.

The Doctor sighed before continuing. “I’ve always been very interested in the world around us. I wanted to discover its innermost secrets, to travel to the farthest corners known to man. I was even prepared to challenge the gods themselves if it meant finding out something that no one else knew about before me. And at the beginning, I didn’t do badly. I made discoveries and acquired knowledge that most of mankind hadn’t even dreamt of. And I never, ever gave up, even when this knowledge required sacrifices.”

Bianka realized she was at the edge of the stool, her immense fascination causing her to slip down without realizing it. She quickly corrected herself, not losing attention for even a moment.

“However, at some point, I felt that it wasn’t enough. I still wanted more and more; in this regard, I was worse even than Pantalone. I resembled a hungry monster that no amount of discoveries could satisfy. After an unfortunate incident, the opportunities got even more limited. But then, I had been finally found by a remarkable man – one of the last descendants of a fallen civilisation. That man was Pierro, the one you know as the Jester. He and Her Majesty gave me this laboratory so that I could return to my research. However, as I mentioned before, I still felt this unsatiated desire. I was aware that one day my time would end, and so many secrets would still not see the light of day. This is what prompted me to commence a certain experiment, which ultimately led to the first of the two greatest achievements of my life.” Dottore paused. Bianka waited, determined to hear the whole story. Then, he looked straight into her shining, emotion-filled eyes and smiled slyly. “How old do you think I might be?”

She stiffened before moving uncertainly in her seat. Nothing related to Lord Dottore was ever what it seemed. “At first glance, you look about forty,” she replied slowly, “but I also know that sight is the sense that is most easily fooled.”

The Doctor bared his teeth in a smile. “I’m glad your mind is as sharp as ever. You’re right; my body stopped growing in years at the age of thirty-seven. However, I am much, much older.” He leaned closer. “I’m exactly four hundred and thirty-one years old, Bianka.”

Eight cleared his throat, his demeanour one of embarrassment. “Four hundred and thirty-two,” he corrected.

Dottore looked at him in disbelief. “Thirty-two?” he repeated. “Since when?”

“Exactly four months, two weeks and five days,” he replied matter-of-factly.

Dottore concentrated, counting something on his fingers. Finally, he gasped as if a lightning of clarity struck him. “Indeed, you are right, Eight.” When he raised his gaze, he noticed Bianka gasping at him with bulged eyes and open mouth. He furrowed his brows. “Don’t look at me like that; it’s disturbing. You’ll see for yourself that when you turn four hundred, you too will stop counting.”

She couldn’t believe her ears. Dottore had been traversing through this world for almost half a millennium? In his eyes, she must look like a chick that had just left the family nest. She wondered for a moment if, for some reason, he was trying to deceive her. But the rational part of her mind said that the Doctor had never had any reason to lead her astray. No, it had to be true.

“But… by what miracle?” she choked out. “I can understand extending one’s life by a few years, but this?”

A grin returned to Dottore’s face. “Don’t think I came up with the solution just like that.” He snapped his fingers. “Research on immortality took me many long, tedious, and often fruitless years. However, I finally found the antidote. As for the exact process…” He moved his finger over the earring. “I have a strong feeling that nothing will manage to hide from you. Perhaps you can confirm my hypothesis?”

Bianka watched the movement of his hand, as well as the dangling earring. She remembered how, a few months ago, Dottore had injected himself with a glowing serum, filling many of his ornaments before her eyes. Could this substance…?

“But let’s leave that subject for now,” Dottore said. He cleared his throat before continuing, “When time ceased to be a limitation, I could devote myself in peace to other experiments. For many years, I practically never left the laboratory. I made one discovery after another, created many weapons and machines that are still used today, and learned even the innermost secrets of the human body. However, the moment finally came when the greedy beast reared its head again. I had so many ideas but only two hands. At first, I tried to outsource some experiments to other scientists to improve efficiency, but they lacked out-of-the-box thinking, and their research often failed. I realised that I was the only person who could get around such obstacles. Once again, I was faced with a seemingly insoluble problem. But then, I remembered a certain figure I had met over a century earlier, even before I had created the elixir of immortality. Without going into too much detail, this person was not a mere human but a living puppet created in the likeness of a flesh and blood being. Surely you know him. It’s…”

Eight grunted again. “Master, are you sure that Bianka should come into possession of such sensitive information?”

Dottore waved his hand. “Don’t worry, Bianka is loyal and trustworthy. If need be, I can vouch for her.” Eight bowed his head while Dottore turned back towards her. “That person is Scaramouche, the Sixth, or rather the former Sixth Harbinger if his disappearance is any indication.” Bianka’s eyes bulged with surprise, but before she could bombard Dottore with questions, he continued, “Together with Her Majesty and the Jester, we agreed that it would be worthwhile to welcome him into our ranks. And so, the Fatui gained a new Harbinger and I – a new test subject. After decades of research, I had finally gained a solid foundation for my Segments.”

Bianka glanced at Eight, who was listening to their conversation with absolute serenity. ‘Almost as if it doesn’t concern him at all,’ she thought. ‘And my guess is that it’s quite the opposite.’

“So, these strangers who were looking at me so closely earlier are puppets made in your image?” she asked.

“They are much more than that,” he corrected. “The segments are part of me. They consist of both a body and an endoskeleton, created from a metal used by an ancient civilisation. They have full autonomy and a will of their own, but I can communicate with them through thoughts, deactivate them if necessary, and even, with the right concentration, see through their eyes. The segments themselves are also connected to each other with their minds. If you ever need to contact me while I’m not around, you can approach any of them. Each segment can convey any message to me in the blink of an eye. That way, both they and I carry the title of the Second Harbinger.”

Bianka tried to digest all this new and unbelievable information, but her brain could barely stand it. “So, you communicate through telepathy?”

“Yes. You must have noticed how, while working, I would sometimes stop motionless or drop my tools for seemingly no reason at all.” Bianka nodded. “That’s when I contacted the segment in question. If you don’t believe me, we can do a little test.” Dottore grinned. “Whisper something in my ear. It can be anything; the less expected, the better.”

He leaned towards her and twisted his head. Bianka smiled. The sight reminded her of the game of Liyuean whispers that had been on the leading edge in the House of the Hearth. If someone had told her back then that her “playfellow” would be the Second Harbinger, she would have laughed at them without mercy.

She thought for a moment, then surrounded her mouth with her hands and whispered, “cookies with marmalade.” Dottore snorted amusedly, turning his gaze to Eight.

The silence lasted only a second.

“Cookies with marmalade,” Eight pronounced, almost imperceptibly licking his lips.

Bianka drew in a loud breath. “This is truly amazing! You say it works both ways? Let’s test it then!” Like a child excited by a new discovery, she jumped off the stool and leaned towards Eight, this time whispering, “Dottore snores like an old bear.” He gave her a long, heavy look, turning back to Dottore, whose gentle smile momentarily turned into a grimace of anger.

“Bianka!” he roared, to which she merely giggled.

“At least we made sure it works,” she replied innocently.

Dottore furrowed his eyebrows threateningly. “How old are you? Five? Sit down this instant! I expect more dignity from you, as befits a self-respecting scientist.”

Bianka sat down on the stool, her smile not wavering even a bit.

The Doctor sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Back to the subject. In addition to helping with experiments, the segments have another function – they provide me with different perspectives. A human’s worldview is not only different from other people’s but also changes over the course of a lifetime. Thanks to the segments, I can perceive everything around me through the prism of the fourth dimension – time. For all these reasons, segments can be considered an even greater achievement than immortality. However, one must keep in mind that they are not perfect. No replica will ever copy the original in one hundred per cent. Each has my personality, but some of the traits have been amplified. Hence one might be tempted to say that they are me while being a separate entity at the same time. As for the characteristics of each segment… Perhaps you can discover for yourself which have undergone intensification?”

Bianka looked at Dottore, respect evident in her gaze. She was full of admiration for his courage, sharpness of mind, dedication, and even superbia that were necessary for him to make such great discoveries. She bowed her head and closed her eyes, reflecting on all the new, shocking information.

Dottore straightened up, making Bianka open her eyes. “Well, I think that’s enough revelations for now. Remember that none of this information changes anything about our relationship – you are still the Doctor’s assistant, and I am your superior. If you have any further questions, you can always come to me; I’ll assess whether you should get answers to them. For now, we will go and show you—”

“Well, well, well, you have finally decided to bring the body which has more flesh than metal to the palace,” an impassive voice rang out. “Good, I was already starting to miss it a bit.”

On instinct, Dottore snatched his mask, hiding his face. He gritted his teeth, turning towards the intruder. Bianka swept her gaze over an undersized woman with short straw-coloured hair and pure contempt beaming from her grey-blue eyes. She was dressed in a long white dress, a black corset and white stockings. On her head rested a headband resembling the one worn by maids. However, a glance at her proud face was enough to realise that she would never stoop to even such a simple task as wiping the dust.

The woman stopped in the middle of the room, her pose modest, and inhaled deeply the slightly musty air. “It stinks in here,” she said unceremoniously.

“Then I don’t understand why you came down here, Sandrone,” Dottore retorted, springing from his stool. “Your place is on the other side of the palace. How did you even manage to get in here?”

Sandrone, who Bianka recognised as the Seventh Harbinger known by the codename “Marionette”, shrugged her shoulders. “The door was open. Was I not supposed to take advantage of such an opportunity?”

“Not re—”

“You could stand to make the door bigger, too. Poor Sgorghiguelo can’t fit.”

Dottore glared at her, then gave Bianka a disapproving look. “Did you forget to lock it behind you?”

Archons. She had indeed been so preoccupied with exploring the lab that she forgot to check if it was properly closed.

Seeing her remorseful face, Dottore sighed. “It doesn’t matter. And Sandrone, you have nothing to look for here, so get lost before I throw you out with my own hands.”

Sandrone tutted with distaste and turned up her nose. “I always knew you were just a bunch of rotten brutes. It’s not worth wasting time on such people as you.”

“Perfect! I’m of the same opinion, so you can go now. The door is that way.”

“… I can’t.”

“Excuse me? Why not?”

Sandrone was silent for a long moment. Dottore stared at her expectantly.

“Lend me some cogs and a lever; I’ve run out of them,” she finally said.

Dottore burst into laughter, shaking his head. “No way, I’m not going to be your stockpile of spare parts. Manage on your own.”

“Don’t be like that! Prove to me that you are better than these useless segments.”

“I don’t have to prove anything to you. Now get out of my lab!”

Bianka snorted, amused at how much the two Harbingers were behaving like siblings, forever being at loggerheads with each other. Said amusement, though, quickly turned into confusion when Sandrone turned sideways. Bianka saw that there was something resembling a crank for winding toys sticking out of her back.

Perplexed, she frowned and leaned over to Eight, who, taking advantage of the situation, sat on the vacant stool. “Is Lady Sandrone some kind of a machine?”

He nodded. “An automaton, if we are to be precise.”

“But why? Couldn’t the person who created her become a Harbinger in her place?”

“Not really. Both her creator and the original Sandrone, known then by another name, had kicked the bucket some four hundred years ago.”

Bianka shuddered, hearing Four’s bored voice right next to her. She didn’t see when he approached them or even when he entered the main room. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be working on another experiment?”

Four scowled. “And you think you have the right to question me like that? I’m the Second Harbinger; you should show me some respect.”

Eight hummed, raising one eyebrow. “That’s interesting. I’m also a Second Harbinger, older than you to boot, so perhaps you can answer my question: for what purpose did you leave your workplace and come to us?”

“I could ask you the same thing!”

“I got permission from Master.”

Mumbling under his breath, Four shook his head. He looked exactly like Lord Dottore when one of his experiments ended in failure or when she upset him with something. Bianka opened her mouth to apologise for the impertinence, but Eight grabbed her firmly by the arm and shook his head before she could speak.

After a moment, Four calmed down and leaned his back against the table. “I heard their angry clamour all the way in the operating theatre,” he explained. “I thought I’d see what all the fuss was about.”

“Have you seen One and Two anywhere?” Eight asked. Bianka guessed that he was talking about the little boy and the student who had run out of the hall earlier.

Four shrugged. “No. They’ve flown off somewhere, per usual.”

All three turned towards the Harbingers, who were trying to snatch a gear out of each other’s hands. From where had it come, materialising at the very climax of their increasingly fierce bickering, no one knew.

“Let go of it, Sandrone,” Dottore groaned, “or I’ll leave a big hole in your empty nut!”

“You won’t,” she replied, her voice equally strained, “because I’ll rip your guts out before then.”

Bianka groaned, cursing her upbringing at landing her amongst this madness. While Eight stroked her back reassuringly, Dottore managed to yank the cog out of Sandrone’s hands and lifted it just above her reach.

“You’re a true devil; I hope you realise that!” he spat. “You’ve managed to spoil the atmosphere already on the day of my arrival. Bravo, you deserve a medal!” Having said that, he let out a final bellow of rage before rubbing his forehead. “Truly, nothing could make this evening any worse than that.”

Bianka was of a similar opinion…

… and yet Celestia loved to play tricks on people.

“My gods, I think I’ve come at the wrong time,” another voice rang out, this time much more familiar.

“Oh no, not him…” Dottore wailed.

Bianka grinned as she saw a certain ever-smiling, black-haired man descending gracefully down the metal steps. Paying no heed to Four’s warning hiss, she rose from the stool and, having approached the newcomer, bowed her head respectfully.

“Welcome, Lord Pantalone,” she greeted. “It’s good to see you safe and sound.”

Pantalone chuckled. “I’m glad that at least one person is happy with my presence here,” he replied, his voice as mellow as the finest velvet. “I observed your arrival and decided to come and say hello. I see, however, that I am not the only one who had this idea.”

“It doesn’t matter, Sandrone was already leaving. Right?” Dottore threatened in an ominously low tone. Sandrone merely snarled. She opened her mouth, presumably to say something extremely crude, but suddenly, they heard a bang, as if something had struck the main door with great force.

A moment later, a melodious voice reached their ears. “Dottore, let me in! I want to check your new assistant.”

Bianka suddenly had an instinctive urge to hide in some dark corner and not come out until morning. The last thing she wanted was to be “checked” by a stranger like a volatile experiment. Objections crowding in her head, she turned towards Dottore, ready to protest, but stopped instantly. She had seen such fury only once before, when she had entered his house in Siniy Glaz without permission. Thick veins on his forehead, sweat beading his skin, his teeth clenched so tightly that they ground at the slightest movement – he personified a god of revenge.

Bianka glanced uncertainly at the two segments, their clear concern definitely not improving her mood. No one, not even Pantalone and Sandrone, dared to budge.

Then, a loud bang rang out once more.

And Lord Dottore snapped.

“WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!” he hollered so loud it probably could be heard on the other side of the palace. “A pilgrimage?! This isn’t the Promised Land, it’s a fucking laboratory! GET OUT!”

“What about my—”

Dottore threw the cog at Sandrone with such force that a mere mortal would have been killed on the spot. Fortunately, Marionette was no mere mortal – she grabbed the cogwheel with a precision reminiscent of a state-of-the-art model before heading for the exit without a word of thanks.

As she walked past the trembling Bianka, she paused briefly, leaning over to whisper in her ear, “If you ever get tired of working alongside this madman, my workshops are in the basement of the west wing.”

Bianka blinked in surprise. By the time she was able to open her mouth to respond, Sandrone disappeared up the staircase.

“And take Columbina with you!” Dottore shouted. “I don’t want anyone uninvited scurrying under my feet for at least the next month.”

After another bang and some distant murmuring, a blissful silence set in the laboratory, broken only by the distant hum of some machine. Bianka breathed a sigh of relief, hoping that the worst was behind them. But then she realised that the laboratory was not as empty as she had thought.

“Do you need a special invitation?” Dottore grumbled, sending an irritated look to Lord Pantalone, who was standing off to the side, completely unconcerned. Despite the displeasure still audible in his voice, he already sounded much calmer. “When I said, ‘get out,’ I also meant you.”

“Oh no, I can’t leave yet,” Pantalone replied, shaking his head. The chain of his glasses chimed quietly. “I’m still waiting for the check-up.”

“A check-up? You are signed up for today?” Dottore cast a questioning glance at Eight; the segment nodded affirmatively. He sighed. “Alright, I’ll take care of tha—”

“Master, conducting medical examinations is my responsibility,” Eight interjected. “I can perform a check-up on Lord Pantalone while you give Bianka a tour of the complex.”

The Doctor let out a humourless laugh. “I’m not having that; I know your tricks. You are to start socialising with Bianka as soon as possible. Take Four with you. After all, as they say, the more the merrier. Come on, Pantalone, let’s get this over with.”

Regrator shot them one last amused glance before he and Dottore departed down the corridor.

With them gone, Bianka turned to the other two, trying to suppress a grimace. They didn’t look delighted either.

“So we’ve been appointed as babysitters,” Four summarised. “Great, just fabulous! I’ve never fallen so low before.”

“Don’t be so dramatic; we just need to show her where is what,” Eight reassured, rising from the stool with a quiet gasp. “Let’s start with the place we’re currently in. This is the main hall, where we research mainly the machines and automatons left behind by the fallen Khaenri’ahn civilisation.”

Bianka looked around, relishing the chance to finally observe everything in earnest. As she had noticed earlier, there were several workbenches, each bending under the weight of a variety of different widgets. She spotted a table entirely occupied by bolts of various sizes and shapes, another full of cables and cores, and even one storing replacement parts for the Ruin Machines. One of them stood out from the rest: a laboratory table – instead of iron, there were stands full of test tubes, beakers, and many instruments used in various fields of chemistry. And in most of the vessels, that same blue liquid that filled the earrings of Dottore and his segments.

“Ah-ah-ah, it’s not for you.” Eight pulled her away as she tried to investigate one of the vials. “Dottore certainly wouldn’t let you tinker with the serum. You’d better take care of your own creations.”

Bianka moved away from the table, looking at Eight askance. “What happened to the respectful title? If I recall correctly, you were calling him ‘Master.’”

Four scoffed. “We’re not going to worship that gremlin when out of his hearing range. I wouldn’t have titled him at all if once Dottore hadn’t deactivated One for a whole month for calling him an ‘old fart.’”

Bianka smiled. “It’s a very apt nickname.”

One corner of Four’s mouth lifted slightly. Or maybe it was just a play of light. Using the opportunity, she took a better look at the two segments. Only now did she realise how smooth and flawless their and all the segments’ skin looked. No scars, spots, pimples or moles. Eight’s face was marred with a few wrinkles, but they looked more like a cosmetic procedure than an actual imperfection. As far as their physical appearance was concerned, they were downright perfect…

Too perfect.

“Does your keen observation of us mean that you would like to move on to the next room?” Eight asked, snapping her out of her reverie.

Bianka tore her curious gaze away from them. “Almost, give me another minute.”

Four grumbled something, but Bianka was no longer paying attention, her focus instead on the opposite wall. It was entirely occupied by Ruin Guards, Hunters, Destroyers, and many other automatons. Some of the machines were kept in their original states, while others have been partially taken apart. The sight was unusual and curiosity-inducing, but what truly fascinated her was the giant Ruin Grader located in the depths of the room, a tangled mess of cables, gears, and metal peeking out from its open belly. At the level of the robot’s head, a metal platform ran around the hall, accessed by a staircase near the entrance. ‘It must be quite a view from there,’ she thought.

“This grader is mainly Three’s job, who’s Four’s twin,” Eight added once Bianka faced him. “Let’s proceed for now; it’s getting late, and we have to show you other places.”

How was he able to tell the time despite the hall having no windows? Doesn’t matter. It was probably a “segment’s intuition.”

“How is it possible that you have a twin brother… Four?” Bianka asked as she took the container with the test tubes and followed the men toward the double doors. She wasn’t sure she could take such liberties with a man who also bore the title of “The Doctor.” Four, however, didn’t look annoyed.

“According to Dottore, we were a kind of an ‘experiment within an experiment,’” he replied, almost bored. “He wanted to see if it was possible to create two segments at once. It turns out that yes, absolutely; in such a situation, the resulting segments share the same physical characteristics. However, we still differ in character.”

“And significantly so,” Eight interjected.

Four grimaced. “Three is just…” He stopped, pondering the right term.

“Unpredictable.”

“Yes, ‘unpredictable’ is a good word. End of conversation, we’re almost there.”

The segments led her down a wide, well-lit corridor to a door with a sign above it that stated “SILENCE.” Next to it was a red light, now turned off.

“Behind this door lies the operating theatre,” Four explained. “We have three rooms where we carry out various procedures, not only life-saving ones.” Bianka was very tempted to ask what procedures he was talking about, but afraid of possible explanations, she decided against it. “It’s usually me, Dottore, and Eight who work here. Other segments also have access to the suite, but they rarely occupy any of the rooms. I don’t know if you will ever have a chance to assist in an operation, but if you do, remember that you can only enter the theatre in special clothing. The specimens we are experimenting on are not cheap, so we don’t want one of them to be killed by pneumonia or another severe infection.”

Bianka shuddered. What could these “specimens” be? Frankly, she didn’t want to know the answer to that question.

Suddenly, joyful laughter echoed further in the corridor.

“Stop at last, One!” someone, a segment, abruptly shouted. “You’re all wet; you’ll slip, and I’ll have to send you for an inspection!”

His pleas were met with another burst of laughter, and before Bianka could react, he and One dashed around the corner. One no longer had a dirty face, but instead, his clothes were gone missing. Completely naked, he was running away from a gasping young man, a soft towel in his hand. Bianka watched the scene, absolutely dumbfounded. She glanced at her companions, but none of them looked concerned. She pointed to the segments running towards them. “Does this happen often?”

Eight muttered something unintelligible while Four put his hands in his pockets, shrugging noncommittally. One ran past with a wild shriek, eliciting no reaction either. Bianka, though, paused – she discerned something strange.

‘Wait, what’s that on his back?’

Two has finally managed to get hold of One, but as he tried to wrap a towel around him, the boy slipped out of his grasp and darted between his wide-spread legs. He was running back towards Bianka. Taking pity on the poor student, she pushed the container into Four’s hands and stood confidently in the rascal’s way. One failed to stop in time and, with a quiet “Oh,” found himself in her arms.

“Hi,” he greeted after Bianka lifted him up so that he could look at her without lifting his head, his tone the most innocent he could manage.

Bianka chuckled. “You’re like an inexhaustible bundle of energy. I can feel you shaking all over.”

“That’s because I’m a child, and children have lots of energy.” He grinned, showing two rows of sharp teeth. “Or at least that’s what Two says.”

“Certainly,” she said, smiling while Two squirmed in discomfort. “Tell me, One, do you mind if I looked at your back?”

The boy blinked in surprise but nodded, agreeing to her request. Bianka turned him around, revealing a rectangular and shallow… hole, for lack of a better word. It contained cables that passed through a dark blue plate crisscrossed with bright lines, a red crystal glowing in the centre. She lifted her hand to stroke the strange stone, but One shouted and began to squirm.

“Don’t touch my panel! Don’t touch it!” he yelled. “You’ll break something!”

“Let me take him,” Two said, taking the boy from Bianka’s arms, wrapping him in a towel, and quickly moving away. One immediately calmed down, a sly smile returning to his face. He waved at Bianka before they both disappeared around the corner.

“What was that, this strange panel?” she asked the two remaining segments.

“That crystal is a miniature generator,” Eight said. “You could say it substitutes a human heart, in a way. If it were damaged, the energy supply would be interrupted, and the segment – immediately deactivated. Each of us has such a panel on our back or on our chest.”

“Except for Six,” Four interjected. “His panel is located—”

Eight poked him, making Four break off into a mutter. “The panel has another use too. Exposing part of our internal machinery makes it easier to carry out inspection and possible repairs.”

Bianka frowned. “If this crystal is so important, why is it exposed? Shouldn’t it rather be deeply hidden, like the most important organs?”

Eight shook his head. “Considering One’s behaviour, you might think the generator is fragile and delicate; meanwhile, it is one of the hardest materials in Teyvat. Even if you started pounding it with a hammer, you wouldn’t destroy it.”

“But try to restrain your inquisitive urges and don’t touch it,” Four added. “We don’t like it.”

Bianka nodded, taking the container from his outstretched hands.

The segments showed her the bathroom next, where four showers had been installed so that one could wash themselves if they got soiled with blood, grease, or other substances. After that, they arrived at a room with several beds. According to Eight, it used to be a treatment room for gravely ill patients. Unfortunately, because the sick were too frightened by the Second Harbinger’s presence and the screams sometimes coming from deep within the complex, they were moved to the palace infirmary, making the room now mostly forgotten. It was good for taking naps in, but because the segments didn’t need sleep, the room stayed empty most of the time.

Having returned to the main hall, the segments led Bianka through another, narrower corridor to a small room, which turned out to be Eight’s study. At first glance, it looked very ordinary – there was only a desk, a couch, and a few shelves filled with medical files and books. However, when Bianka turned her head, her eyes nearly popped out of their orbits. In the corner was one of the tall capsules she had seen in the atrium. This one, though, was filled with a bluish liquid, and in it, an approximately thirty-year-old, handsome and naked man. As she took a closer look at him, she realised that she was staring at the face of a slightly younger Dottore, with a panel on his chest identical to the one on One’s back. A flexible tube resembling an umbilical cord was growing from his abdomen.

“This is, or rather will be, Five,” Eight informed. “I’m responsible for watching over his growth until all the organs are fully developed. This should happen very soon; if you’re lucky, you will get the chance to participate in his ‘birth.’”

“It’s truly… incredible,” Bianka said, her tone reverent. As she got a little closer, she saw that the segment’s skin was very thin, almost transparent, both blood vessels and metal elements showing through. When she put her hand to the capsule, his brow twitched, and a slight smile appeared on his face. “Can he hear us?”

“His sense of hearing is already fully developed, so yes, it is highly probable.”

Bianka smiled and tapped lightly on the glass. “You’re a handsome man, Five,” she said softly. The corners of Five’s lips lifted even higher. Paying no attention to Four’s snort, she turned away from the pod. “I don’t know if this knowledge is available to me, but how is it possible that you also have metal parts inside you? What does this process look like?”

Eight eyed her thoughtfully, then stiffened, his gaze cloudy. A few seconds later, he returned to his natural pose. “Dottore believes we can give you general information. I understand that you don’t have enough knowledge to comprehend the whole process in detail. In short, we create a metal endoskeleton first, around which a body of flesh is formed. We can support tissue growth with stem cells, transplants, or synthetic organs. The liquid in the capsule functions as amniotic fluid, while a tube supplies the forming segment with necessary nutrients, vitamins, micro- and macroelements, and oxygen. When the segment is ready, we pull it out, Dottore connects with its consciousness, and voilà.”

“And by what means can segments older than the original be created, at least in physical terms? If, theoretically, Dottore has not reached an old age, shouldn’t it be impossible?”

“Every cell contains the full set of DNA of a particular organism,” he explained. “The information stored there tells us how the organism will roughly look at particular stages of its life. Each one of us contains a fragment of the original, in this case, Dottore, and through various methods, we can induce expression and activate those genes that we need. This way, we can create segments that are older or younger than the original individual.”

Bianka listened to him with boundless amazement. What Dottore had accomplished was unimaginable. She didn’t know what to say.  No words could carry the enormity of her surprise and awe.

Eight put his hand on her shoulder. “There’s one more room left that you should see.”

“This one should be of bigger interest to you,” Four added.

They led her across the hall to a room that was some distance from the rest of the complex. Four opened the door once they stopped, sending her an expectant look. Bianka nodded in acknowledgement before going inside.

She found herself in an adjacent lab reminiscent of her workroom in Siniy Glaz. This one, however, was larger and the equipment more advanced. Its seclusion too meant her peace and quiet wouldn’t be disturbed by the whirring machines or the noises of other workers.

With a satisfied hum, Bianka placed the container on top of the laboratory table, pulled out the test tubes, and put them in the stand. She looked at her companions, her soft gaze filled with gratitude. “Thank you, this lab is wonderful.”

“Don’t thank us; thank Dottore,” Eight responded. “It was he who instructed us to give this room to you exclusively.”

“I certainly will,” she promised.

Taking one last look around, the three of them returned to the main hall, where they were met with two Harbingers. Lord Dottore was saying something to stiffened Regrator, gesticulating vigorously and waving a filled from top to bottom with numbers piece of paper. For the first time, there was not even a shadow of a smile on Pantalone’s face but a grimace of concern or perhaps even irritation.

At the sight of them, they paused in their conversation.

“Well? Did you manage to fulfil the task I gave you?” the Doctor asked.

Eight nodded. “We gave our assistant a tour of the most important places of the complex.”

Standing with his arms crossed, Four hummed thoughtfully. “Theoretically, we should have shown her the basements as well…”

“I’ll take care of that,” Dottore assured. “Another time.” He turned his gaze to Bianka, smiling. “Eight informed me that you wanted to learn more about segments’ creation. What do you think of my way of keeping many perspectives at once?”

Bianka looked straight into his amused eyes and said truthfully, “This is the most astonishing and awe-inspiring achievement I have ever seen. I can’t even imagine how long it took to come up with, develop, and create the first segment. I already knew you were a genius in the subjects you are interested in, but there, in Eight’s study… It exceeded my wildest expectations. I’m impressed.”

As she finished, there was no trace of Dottore’s smile anymore. This wasn’t the answer he had expected. His hypothesis stated that she would be uncomfortable or perhaps even agitated by an invention that violated the basic laws of nature she so loved. He knew that Bianka hadn’t said all this to ingratiate herself with him, this wasn’t her style. No, every word had to be sincere.

He didn’t even try to understand why a flock of butterflies was now frisking in his stomach. “I…”

“On the other hand,” Bianka mused, “I have to admit that this achievement is very much in your style.”

His tone turned defensive. “What do you mean?”

Bianka snorted with laughter. “How can I explain… Let’s just say that if I were shown a number of different discoveries, contraptions, and creations, I would know immediately that the segments were your idea.”

Dottore muttered under his breath, unsure whether he should feel irritation or satisfaction. He ostentatiously ignored Pantalone, who sent him a meaningful smile. “I’m glad you enjoyed the trip,” he changed the subject. “I’ll give you my attention in a moment, but for now, wait while I finish discussing a certain issue with Pantalone. Four, Eight, you can get back to work.”

The segments left without even a word of farewell.

Dottore turned back to Pantalone. “Focus, Lone! Haven’t you changed your diet recently? Who prepares your meals?”

“Exactly the same chef who has been preparing them for five years,” he replied coolly. “You’re worrying too much. I’m just weakened. Lately, I’ve been forced to use Delusion more often than usual; that’s the most likely reason.”

“I’m worrying too much? Your results have never been so bad before! Your condition was already poor in Siniy Glaz, and your Delusion didn’t have much to do then, did it? Let me run some more tests—”

“You know I don’t have time for that,” Pantalone cut off. “I have over a dozen important meetings ahead of me; I can’t just postpone them or allow myself to rest. I’ll come back when all the affairs are taken care of.”

“By then, it may be too late. Surely you realise that the sooner we start the treatment, the better the chances of…”

A quiet squeak coming from the corner of the hall drew Bianka’s attention. Curious, she turned and squinted her eyes. There seemed to be a row of small cages behind one of the tables. Leaving the bickering Harbingers to themselves, she approached them without a second thought, stumbling across a familiar crate filled to the brim with scrap iron along the way.

‘Dottore would never in his life leave this chest in his mountain residence,’ she thought affectionately. ‘This pile of scrap metal is like his favourite teddy bear.’

As she passed the workbench, she took a better look at the cages. There was a total of six of them stacked one on top of the other in two columns, white mice squeaking in each. One of the rodents opened its red, beady eyes, lifted its head from above the crowded bodies, and sniffed in her direction.

Bianka smiled. “Hi, little one. You're certainly braver than the others, aren't you?"

The mouse picked itself up and scurried to the little door, moving its whiskers nervously. Bianka pressed her hand against the cage so that it could familiarise itself with her scent. When it didn’t try to bite her or escape, she unlocked and opened the door. The mouse eyed her warily and, to her astonishment, came out of the cage, settling in the middle of her hand.

“What are you up to there, Bianka?” Dottore suddenly asked, joining her.

Bianka showed him her find. “It isn’t afraid at all. It walked onto my hand all by itself.”

The Doctor stared at the mouse, his gaze unfavourable. “That one is still alive? I told the segments to use it at the first opportunity. Give it to me; I’ll find a use for it in some experiment.” He stretched out his hand to grab the mouse, but Bianka slapped him on the wrist. “Ouch!”

Reproach emanating from him was almost palpable.

“Are you out of your mind?” she spat, taking the mouse away. “You’re going to kill it for being brave? Scoundrel!”

“Hey, a little respect for the Second Harbinger!” he hissed.

Bianka wasn’t interested in his antics. Turning her back on him, she hummed thoughtfully. “What should I call you?” she pondered, lifting the rodent’s tail.

“You aren’t thinking about keeping it, are you?” Dottore didn’t give up. “It’s just a common cheese-eater! They are here to serve as test subjects.”

“Mice don’t really eat cheese,” she threw over her shoulder before refocusing on the animal. “You’re a male, and one with a lot of courage at that…”

“If you take it in, don’t even think about counting on our help! You will have to provide it with food, water, shelter, sawdust…”

“I got it; you will be known as Kurage from now on!” she exclaimed, happiness and satisfaction radiating from her like pure light.

Dottore squeezed the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily. “I see I won’t be able to bring you to your senses. I’ll let you keep this mouse. Just this mouse,” he emphasised ominously before glancing at his watch. “It’s getting late. Let’s get one more thing done and then I’ll escort you to your room, where a small gift should be awaiting us.”

Instead of feeling joy, she looked up at him suspiciously. “A gift, you say…?” When it came to presents of any kind, she didn’t trust him an inch.

Dottore scoffed. “Please, have a little more faith. Do you think I’m some kind of barbarian?”

Bianka decided not to comment on that.

“Where has Lord Pantalone gone?” she asked to change the subject.

“He left a few minutes ago. Don’t worry, I feel you’ll have many more occasions to converse with that stubborn mule. You’re still in his debt after all, if I remember correctly. But let’s not talk about him anymore; we have other things to take care of.”

Bianka agreed and, still holding the curious mouse in her hands, followed the Doctor to one of the tables. Dottore took a tablet in his hand and began to change its settings, mumbling under his breath. He instructed Bianka to put her right hand to the screen. As she did so, green radiance illuminated their faces. Dottore explained that he had given her access to several rooms in the complex; from now on, the panel protecting the entrance to the lab would respond to her fingerprints.

Having expressed her gratitude, the three of them left the main hall. The stairs leading up to her room no longer seemed so murderous. An impenetrable night looming behind the window, Bianka placed Kurage on the bed and threw herself next to him, breathing a sigh of relief. Dottore was tinkering with something by the fireplace, but she couldn’t care less, exhaustion overpowering her like a raging lawachurl. Lifting her heavy eyelids, she glanced at the watch standing on the bedside table. Surprise hit her like the first drop of rain – the hour hand was already approaching eleven o’clock.

“Don’t fall asleep yet,” Dottore said, breaking the silence. “Look and tell me what you think.”

Bianka propped herself with an effort and shot him a glance. Dottore, however, was nowhere to be seen. In his place was the Beast’s mouth, open in a savage roar.

“Calm down, Bianka,” the Beast said in Dottore’s bored voice as she screamed at full volume. “Don’t you see that it’s already dead? It’s just a pelt.”

Bianka tried to calm her rapid breathing. When she finally regained her ability to think logically, she took a closer look at the “gift” – what she had first taken to be the resurrected sabrelion turned out to be nothing more than soft fur, so characteristic of many Snezhnayan homes.

Dottore lowered the pelt to reveal the upper half of his face, eying Bianka with an unamused look. “Are you going to scream again? If so, let me just plug my ears.”

“This is supposed to be the present?!” Bianka shouted to his displeasure. “Where did it even come from?”

Dottore shrugged. “When I killed the Beast, I didn’t know what to do with the body. I figured you might want to keep this pelt as a keepsake.” He leaned towards her, his voice lowered. “You’d better accept it. Pantalone said it’s worth a fortune.”

Not waiting for her answer, he threw the fur between the fireplace and two armchairs. Bianka cautiously rose from the bed, leaving Kurage who has already settled down on a cushion. Crouching beside the Beast’s muzzle, she touched its fur. Despite the stiffness of the individual hairs, together they formed a soft, bouncy pillow.

“Well, that would be all,” Dottore said as she rose to her feet. “It’s been a long, tiring day, so I suggest you get some rest. We have taken up a lot of your time today, so I allow you to come an hour later tomorrow. Don’t worry about the meals; someone will surely leave breakfast at the door. Don’t leave your room at night too, and definitely don’t try to wander away from the lab. You need to familiarise yourself with the palace and its regulars first in order to feel relatively safe outside the complex. Have a restful night; I’ll see you in the lab tomorrow.” He headed towards the exit, but after some thought, he stopped. “One more thing. Watch that mouse. I don’t like its eyes; they’re too intelligent.” He shot Kurage a suspicious look. Kurage raised himself on his hind legs, reciprocating his gaze as if trying to challenge him. Bianka covered her mouth to prevent Dottore from seeing her amused smile.

“Doctor,” she called out as he opened the door. He turned towards her, his eyebrow raised questioningly. She smiled. “Thank you for the gift. And for keeping me in your thoughts.”

Confusion blossomed on his face like lilies in the first rays of the morning sun. After a moment, his lips curved upwards, his head bowing almost imperceptibly. Then, before Bianka could say anything else, he fled the room without a word. Her smile didn’t falter even after he disappeared, though – she was sure she saw the darkened tips of his ears.

Chapter Text

After the first week of work, Bianka finally began to settle in.

Her workroom was spacious and peaceful; researching ever more bizarre poisons had become an enjoyable and satisfying job. The loneliness wasn’t bothering her, either. She set up a corner in there for Kurage to keep her company during the day and look after the workroom at night.

Despite Dottore’s warnings, caring for the mouse had posed no issues. The lab storeroom (which she found on her second day in the palace after spying on Two) was stocked with food, so much so that she figured no one would notice the disappearance of a small packet or two of grain. Not wanting to place Kurage back in a cage, she picked a table to set up his new habitat. Unable to get any sawdust, she lined the metal surface of the table with soft paper, placed Petri dishes of food and water, made a house out of a cardboard box she found, and even created a treadmill out of a bearing and pieces of metal left on one of the workbenches.

None of the laboratory mice had ever experienced such luxury.

When Kurage explored every nook and cranny of his corner and got the gist of the treadmill, he was rapt. It wasn’t uncommon for Bianka to take him to other parts of the complex either, which happened when Dottore or any of his segments needed assistance with their experiments. These, in turn, took different forms. Their work, hitherto based on cogs, cores, and grease, had been replaced by the human body, drugs, and scalpels. When Bianka set foot in the lab after the first night, Dottore took her to the dissection room, where she participated in a necropsy. Her “participation” consisted of watching Dottore dissect the body and answering his questions. Bianka had to summon up all the knowledge she had acquired during her initial training so as not to make an idiot of herself. Nevertheless, she managed to jumble all the nerves of the upper limb, confuse a rib with a clavicle, and point to the left kidney when Dottore told her to pick the right one. She believed that, for a first-timer, it didn’t go so badly. The Doctor, however, was probably of a different opinion, as at the end of the “lesson,” he gave her some textbooks and atlases heavy enough to kill someone and instructed her to study them at her leisure.

In her spare time, Bianka explored the rest of the complex. Most of the rooms she was given access to turned out to be storages full of machine parts, various chemicals, and medicines. However, in one of the rooms, she discovered a large cellarium, which pleased her immensely. There was almost everything in it the heart could desire: dried fruit, pickled vegetables, cured and dried meats, various cheeses, chicken and quail eggs, juices, spirits, and so on. What surprised her, however, was the complete lack of confectionery. But then, with the memory of the chocolates she had discovered in Dottore’s Siniy Glaz house and One stuffing his mouth with stolen cookies, suddenly, the answer to the question of where the sweets had gone became obvious.

It didn’t really matter – she was going to be a regular in this room anyway.

Mindful of the Doctor’s words, she didn’t try to snoop around in other parts of the palace on her own. Her curiosity, though, was rearing its head higher and higher, harbingering the day when attempts at self-restraint would no longer be able to hold it back.

But in the meantime, she enjoyed the spaces she had access to, including her apartment, which got cosier and cosier with each day.

In the main room, the dragon figurine took its rightful place on the bedside table, right next to the photo frame. Above the bed hung two paintings depicting the mountain landscape – the one that had already been there on her arrival and the other given by Timur. She couldn’t tell which one she liked better.

In addition to the main room, the lounge had also two doors leading to adjoining rooms. One of these turned out to be a large bathroom, where stood a lovely bathtub capable of accommodating at least two adults. Bathing in warm water and floating foam was a perfect reward for a hard day’s work.

Then, in the small study painted in dark greens and browns, there was the desk and a bookcase that had only but a single novel which Bianka brought with her standing on the highest shelf like a king looking down on his kingdom. On the lowest one she placed the wine from Wilhelm, not wanting to leave the bottle in the pantry for fear of it being accidentally emptied by one of the segments.

So, everything was coming together splendidly. The apartment. Her work. Her new companions.

Or, on second thought, almost everything.

Bianka was still struggling to win the sympathy of Dottore’s doubles. Often, she felt she had regressed back to the beginning when the Second Harbinger didn’t have a shred of trust in her. Every time she tried to strike up a conversation with one of the segments, they would disregard her, shirk from it, or simply tell her to go away and not bother them. While Dottore told her not to worry about it, claiming that they needed more time to get used to the presence of an outsider, it didn’t console her. However, she tried not to impose on them so as not to make an already far-from-ideal situation worse. Instead, she used a skill that every researcher and scientist should have: make observations and draw conclusions.

And here is what she managed to find out:

Each segment’s “name” was an ordinal number closely related to the stage of Dottore’s life it represented. The smaller the number, the younger the segment. The structure of each was based on one of four “builds,” depending on the shape and size of their endoskeletons.

One was the only one belonging to the “Alpha” build. As his name indicated, he was the youngest segment while also having the most energy. Due to his age and limited knowledge, his main job involved cleaning. At first, Bianka didn’t like the idea of using a child (even if not fully human) to do tedious work. After a while, however, she realised that it was a wise move – if One had no activities, the lab would have been torn to shreds. Cleaning up after the other segments helped him use his energy.

Dottore claimed that each segment was characterised by two traits, one good and one bad. Bianka could tell with certainty that One’s flaw was a malice that didn’t match his innocent appearance. His hobbies included swapping test tubes, hiding notes, or spilling substances of unknown origin on the floor of the main hall (which he had to clean up afterwards anyway). As for his virtue… Bianka wasn’t sure, but in those rare moments when One was willing to talk to her, she saw the same glint of curiosity in his eyes that animated her own mind. Despite his childish demeanour and frivolous nature, he often approached other segments, trying to extract information from them about the experiment they were dealing with. He once accosted her, too, in her workroom, asking questions at machine-gun speed ("What is this instrument used for? Which of your poisons is the most toxic? Do you have one that can dissolve a person from the inside?"). Bianka enjoyed his presence, despite his macabre way of thinking and wide grin foreshadowing another prank.

Two belonged to the “Delta” build. He was also incredibly shy. Every time Bianka tried to approach him, he would run off to another room or hide behind a rack. Since her goal wasn’t to be the source of his nightmares, she decided that she would get to know him better (and discover his virtue) when he approached her of his own volition. But in the meantime, she could observe. And observe, she did. Two’s occupation was taking care of the laboratory supplies and pantries. He’d walk around various rooms with a notebook, writing down the number of bottles of medicines or everyday items. Bianka suspected that he also kept an eye on her reagent supplies when she was busy with other tasks.

Three and Four also belonged to the “Delta” build but were the opposite of shy. Or supposedly so – Bianka still hasn’t seen Three. She’s had a few opportunities to speak to Four, though these moments were brief and tense and filled with the same suspicion she dealt with in her early days with Dottore. But in these conversations, she’s learned a few things, the first being Three’s unpredictability. Supposedly, he resembled the level-headed Four only in appearance. The segment comforted her, saying that she would certainly get to know Three when the right time came. Bianka wasn’t sure if she wanted to meet this segment; the grimace on Four’s face when he talked about his “brother” effectively cooled her enthusiasm.

She also learned that he and Three take turns looking after something called “Haeresys.” When Bianka asked a few more apt questions, Four explained that it was the name of another lab where genetically altered or modified humans were tested. The lab was connected to an arena, which helped them raise money for research by providing gory entertainment for thrill-hungry nobles. In Bianka’s opinion, this was a horrendous idea.

When not in charge of Haeresys, Four was preoccupied with what he called “enhancing humans.” He didn’t reveal any more information about this strange procedure. However, Bianka observed that the segment spent most of his time in the operating theatre. She didn’t pursue the subject, not feeling ready to know the truth herself. Instead, she focused on guessing his characteristics. He had a notorious dissatisfaction with everything around him. Even when experiments were going well, nothing disturbed the blissful silence, and One, for once, didn’t try to scribble on his jacket with a marker, the lack of satisfaction emanated from him like rotten carrion stench. It was a trait that didn’t facilitate a fruitful collaboration. However, on the other hand, Four seemed to reconcile himself with the vision of eternal lack of fulfilment, so he was subdued and level-headed. Bianka could ask a hundred questions, and he would calmly (albeit gruffly) answer each one. So, she concluded that patience was his virtue.

Five was still floating in a fluid-filled capsule. The changes taking place in his body didn’t reveal themselves overnight, but Eight assured that his development was proceeding smoothly. Bianka would come to him from time to time and talk. She had read that it was good to speak to the unborn babies. Assuming it was the same with the segments, she would tell him about her own experiences and the other laboratory regulars. She also didn't forget to reassure him what a handsome man he was and that he would certainly be a smart segment. Her words bore fruit, as every time he heard her voice, Five’s smile would become a little wider.

Six she knew practically nothing about. The only information she had been able to gather stated that he was a representative of the “Omega” build (much like Five), looked exactly like Lord Dottore, and was rarely in the lab. Due to his diligence and reliability, he spent most of his time on missions to distant countries, acting as the Second Harbinger. According to the segments, he was currently in Sumeru to find Lord Scaramouche after he disappeared during a star-crossed mission in Inazuma. Even though no one had said so explicitly, Bianka had the impression that Six wasn’t very popular – every time she tried to find out more, she was met with a refusal or a grimace of displeasure.

Seven was a segment that spent just as much time on field missions. Unlike Six, however, his task was mainly to obtain new experimental subjects within Snezhnaya, which sounded almost as macabre as fighting in an underground arena. He was the second segment besides Eight, whose stage of life reached further than that of the original Dottore. If word was to be believed, he was about fifty-five years old and, like Eight, he belonged to the “Kappa" build. She didn’t know much about his characteristics, but Eight claimed that he was quite spazzy and, despite his years, matched One with his energy levels.

Eight, finally, was the oldest segment, around seventy years old, and the one with whom Bianka found common ground almost from the start. This by no means meant that he developed any sort of affection for her; rather, her presence didn’t bother him. Eight was the most deserving of the doctor title – his job consisted of treating and operating on gravely ill patients that ordinary physicians couldn’t handle, as well as performing inspections on other segments. He rarely showed strong emotions, preferring to rely on his boundless wisdom in solving problems, like a true scientist. Because of this approach, Bianka had immense respect for him.

Occasionally, wanting to take a moment’s rest from her work and the laboratory hustle and bustle, Bianka would come to his office to chat or observe the carefree Five. It was during these visits that she discovered Eight’s flaw – despite his responsible work, the segment was incredibly lazy. Every time she entered the small room, he was just… sitting and staring at the wall. Only when he noticed her presence did he straighten up and start writing in his notebook (Bianka knew very well that he was only pretending; when she dared to peek into his notes, she saw some scribbles and doodles). She never reported him to Dottore, though – the behaviour was too endearing.

Besides adapting to the segments and all their quirks, adapting to the laboratory racket proved to be another challenge. Three months spent alone with Dottore in his residence had made her forget the murmurs, mumblings, thuds, and other noises present when there were more than two people at once. Like the Doctor, the segments had their quirks, sometimes hard to accept. She had first encountered them when they were dining together. Bianka was able to turn a blind eye to Dottore’s obnoxious behaviour at the table, but listening to the smacks, grunts and slurps of four additional fellow diners was beyond her strength.

When one of the segments burped practically into her ear, she exploded. “What is this behaviour?! I thought I was working alongside the Second Harbinger, not hogs in a pigsty!”

Five heads turned towards her, each with an expression of sky-high astonishment. Realising what she had said, she froze, frightened that they would take revenge for such audacious words. But to her surprise, they turned around and began to eat much more slowly, being very careful not to make any excess noise (except for One, he smacked even louder). An occasional grunt still could be heard, but she knew they were trying their best.

Life is structured in such a way that eureka moments usually come in the shower (Bianka herself could attest to this). Most people, showing common sense, decided to finish their baths first before writing down a new idea. Contrary to what one might think, Dottore wasn’t in this group. He was able to run out from under the stream of water, his body sprinkled with drops, his hair still covered in foam and all the qualities of a grown-up man in full glory, screaming, “Bianka, a sheet of paper!” before scribbling as if his life depended on it. This behaviour characterised all the segments, of course. When she first encountered this eccentricity, a heart attack became a real threat. She tried to suggest to Dottore that he at least cover himself with a towel, but he brushed her off, claiming that it was just a body like any other and, as usual, she was making a mountain out of a molehill.

The final challenge was related to Dottore’s position itself. Theoretically, every segment bore the title of “The Doctor,” which inevitably involved some misunderstandings.

Such as now.

“Doctor!” Bianka called out, holding one of the textbooks in her hand.

“Yes?” three male voices answered her.

She furrowed her brows. “We can’t go on like this! I’m not able to communicate with each of you if you react to the same title.”

“Is that so?” Dottore raised his head from the workbench and threw a nonchalant look at her. “What are you suggesting then? If you’re worried that you’ll offend the segments by addressing them by their names, I can allay your doubts.”

She shook her head. “They are not real names.” She turned towards Four and Eight. “Don’t you find it uncomfortable that you are just numbers to your creator? Perhaps you would prefer to be called like ordinary people.”

The men looked at each other, unsure of what she was getting at.

Dottore got up from his chair and stood between Bianka and the segments. “I see no reason why they should have human names. Numeric nomenclature hasn’t caused any problem so far.”

Bianka didn’t reply, staring instead at the segments who were glancing at each other, immersed in a telepathic conversation.

Finally, Four stepped forward. “How would we potentially receive these names?” he asked with evident suspicion.

Dottore’s head instantly snapped in his direction. “Why are you taking her side? You are my segments. If I say you don’t need names, you don’t!”

Bianka smiled. Paying no attention to the increasingly frustrated Doctor, she replied, “If you have no objections, I can do it. I even have some ideas already.”

The segments took one last look at each other, and both nodded.

“We are willing to go along with this proposal, but we reserve the right to withdraw should the names prove unsatisfactory,” Eight said.

Dottore gritted his teeth. “I’m not allowing that; this decision was not discussed with me beforehand!”

“Why not?” Bianka asked, smiling to calm him. Dottore was still tense. “It won’t change anything except enabling easier communication. And besides, if they want it, why forbid it?”

“If I may interject,” Eight added, “… I think Bianka is right. Our names won’t leave this lab; we will still be known as ‘Lord Dottore’ in the rest of the palace.”

The Doctor stared at Bianka, then looked at Four and Eight before glancing at One and Two, who, curious about the argument, were watching them surreptitiously from the corridor entrance. Five pairs of eyes stared back at him with determination… six, counting Kurage, who poked his head out of Bianka’s lab coat pocket. Finally, he let out such a long sigh that it was a miracle he didn’t faint.

“All right, you win,” he relented, “but the deal is that what’s about to happen here stays between us. No one else can find out about the names.”

No one objected.

Bianka nodded and turned towards the segments. “One, Eight, come here, please.”

One bulged his eyes, emerging from behind a corner and standing in the middle of the hall with his head lowered shyly. The oldest segment also headed towards the place, his step much calmer. He straightened up, put his hands behind his back, and looked at her expectantly.

Bianka knelt on one knee to be at One’s eye level. “One, you have a lot of life and energy in you, which you use to prank others. You remind me of a bee that stings when we least expect it. Considering these qualities, I would like to give you the name Fripon. Do you agree?”

For a while, he stood motionless and stared at her, his eyes big as saucers. But, just as Bianka became nervous at his lack of reaction, he squealed exultantly and threw his arms around her neck, the force so great that she had to support herself with her hand to avoid falling.

“It’s beautiful!” he shouted in her ear. “Fripon! Thank you from the depths of my rotten heart!”

Bianka gasped in surprise and reciprocated the hug. “You’re welcome; I’m glad you like it.”

When Fripon finally released her, she rose, facing Eight. An amused smile lurked on his face.

“Eight, you were the first to accept me and are always ready to offer wise counsel. Because of your experience and immense knowledge, I have decided to name you Mudry. What do you say to that?”

The segment repeated the name, testing its sound. After a few seconds, the corners of his mouth lifted. He nodded. “I agree with your intuition, it’s a proper name. I will carry it with pride.”

Delighted at her success, she turned her gaze to the Four and Two, who dared to move a little closer to the rest of the segments. “Forgive me, I would prefer to get to know you a little better before deciding what we should call you. I hope you are not offended?”

Four snorted, shrugging. “Whatever…”

Two flinched and shook his head violently, acquiescing to her request.

“Excellent,” Dottore interjected, rubbing his hands. “If the christening is behind us, we can get back to serious matters.”

“Actually…” Bianka began, at which he let out a protracted groan.

“I usually encourage people to use their brains, but your ideas go in the wrong direction too often.”

Bianka wasn’t bothered by his whining. “I have another suggestion to make communication easier, but I have a feeling you won’t like it.”

“Well, that’s nothing new…”

“I suggest that within the complex, I address you by your first name as well.”

Dottore roared with laughter, making her ears ache. “I’m to understand that you want to give me some fancy title too?”

Bianka looked at him for a long time. “I was thinking of the name given to you at the Harbinger’s passing ceremony – ‘Dottore.’ I didn’t think of another moniker, as I assumed you were named somehow on the day you were born.” She paused. “Do you have a birth name?”

The Harbinger's smile gradually began to diminish until it disappeared without a trace. He averted his gaze. It had been a long time since Bianka had seen him so deep in thought.

"I have a birth name," he finally said, "but I haven't used it for so long that I don't know if I can still be entitled to it." After a long moment, he returned his gaze to her. "I allow you to call me by my first name, the one the Fatui bestowed to me, but only in the laboratory. I don't want the whole palace to know about our agreement."

Bianka bowed her head. "I agree to these conditions... Dottore."

Her voice pronouncing his name and her gentle gaze made him feel a strange, previously unknown tickle in his chest. He took a deep breath, followed by a long exhale, and rose from the chair. “Does anyone else have anything to say?” His tone strongly suggested there better be none. When, no one spoke up, he continued, “Alright, let’s get to work. Two, Four, go back to your usual duties while you, Ei― Mudry, stay here. It’s time to show Bianka the basements.”

“And what about me?” Fripon lamented.

“Don’t get under anyone’s feet,” Dottore snarled.

The boy hung his head and turned to walk away into the depths of the complex when Bianka’s hand stopped him. She took Kurage from her pocket and placed it in his hands.

“Could I ask you to feed him, Fripon?” It didn’t escape her notice how the little one’s eyes brightened at the sound of his new name. “I won’t be able to do it now, and he should be eating at regular times.”

Fripon smiled broadly, showing an entire arsenal of sharp teeth. “Of course! I’ll give him so much food that he turns into grain himself!”

Before she could tell him not to try to fatten up Kurage like Baba Yaga, he already disappeared down the aisle.

“You are far too empathetic, Bianka,” Dottore said, shaking his head. “Especially for being in the Fatui. It’ll backfire on you one day; you’ll see.”

“And you are too harsh for him,” she retorted. “After all, he is you from childhood. The world wouldn’t get destroyed in an apocalypse if you said something nice to him from time to time.”

A stifled laugh came from Mudry’s side, which was quickly masked by a cough. Dottore shot him a nasty glance. “That’s enough; I don’t feel like arguing anymore. We have lost a lot of time, and there is still much to do.”

He walked away towards the thick metal door, which was the only one in the entire lab that was locked with an extra panel. While he was busy opening the lock, Bianka turned to the old segment and muttered “stiff,” pointing at Dottore. A smile flashed across Mudry’s face that he tried, and failed, to suppress. He shook his head, putting a finger to his lips.

With a quiet creak, Dottore opened the door, leading straight into absolute darkness.

He looked at Bianka, pointing gallantly at the abyss with his hand. “Ladies first.”

Bianka swallowed and walked towards the entrance. There was a stone ramp leading down into even deeper darkness, so deep underground it made her want to flee as far as possible.

Suddenly, Dottore’s warm breath tickled her neck. “What’s the matter, darling? Having cold feet?” She felt his fingers ghosting over her neck, and an unpleasant shiver ran down her spine. She knew he was doing it to frighten her even more. Unexpectedly, though, he desisted from further teasing and stroked her back. “Don’t be afraid; you’re not in danger there. We’ll be right behind you.”

Bianka nodded, taking her first tentative step into the darkness. Fortunately, the corridor lit up with the familiar orange lines emitting heat. The trek didn’t last long, either. After only a minute, the incline ended, and they found themselves in a space reminiscent of a nurse’s room. There were cupboards and drawers full of drugs, catheters, IV preparation kits, disinfectants, and other instruments, as well as a trolley and a washbasin. Another door led out of the room, also locked with a panel.

Mudry began preparing more drips, ointments, and syringes, at the sight of which Bianka’s legs buckled.

Dottore’s hand abruptly hit her shoulder. “Put on this gown.”

Bianka stared at the cloth in his hand. “Why?” Her voice shook despite her best efforts.

“Because it’s time for you to finally use your newfound knowledge of the human anatomy and see my work in person.”

As if detached from her body, Bianka slowly put on the clean overall, watching Dottore do the same, removing his distinctive gloves in favour of blue nitrile ones.

“Ready?” Mudry spoke up, his mouth and nose protected by a mask. Bianka nodded, trying not to shake. “Great, then let’s get started.” He put his hand to the panel, which flashed with a green light. He then opened the door and pushed the trolley, Bianka trailing close behind while Dottore brought up the rear.

On either side of the corridor were rows of doors blocked with panels. A card hung on each of them containing someone’s photo, age, assigned number, and a brief description of their… case –  experiments to which they had been subjected.

Mudry stopped at the door and touched another panel. As he wheeled the trolley inside, Bianka hesitated. She turned her head and glanced at Dottore out of the corner of her eye. He nodded his head. She took a deep breath and followed the segment.

The room was small and sparsely lit, with stone walls littered with cracks and scratches indicative of their old age. A single lamp hung from the ceiling. After Mudry turned it on, it illuminated the space with a harsh white glow. The room was reminiscent of Spartan conditions – there was only a washbasin, a toilet, and a shower, along with a drain grate and a bed, currently occupied by an unconscious man. Despite the rustling sounds made by the visitors and the eye-wrenching light, he didn’t even flinch. A machine of some kind was connected to his body, its screen displaying his vital signs, including his heart rate, blood pressure, and saturation. When Bianka focused on the man’s skin, she saw that his veins were unnaturally large and emanated a strange purple colour.

“Come a little closer,” Dottore whispered into her ear.

Wanting to do the exact opposite, she followed his order and looked at Mudry, who was replacing the drips.

“What is this substance?” she asked, pointing to the bag full of purple liquid.

“Electro essence,” Mudry explained. “When we refine the formula, it will enable any person to control its power.”

“’Refine it?’ You mean it’s not a finished product?”

“Yes. The current version has too many side effects.” He pointed at the unconscious man. “But we’re getting there. The first generation killed the test subject after just one dose.”

Bianka stiffened. “Then which patient is…”

“The fifth one,” he replied briefly, “and certainly not the last.”

Bianka took a step back. It was as if she was breathing through a straw, the walls moving closer and closer, boxing her in. She took another step. And another; only stopping when Dottore put his hand on her shoulder.

“And what was in the previous drip?” she managed to ask, fighting to keep her voice normal. “The previous liquid was transparent.”

“It was a painkiller,” Dottore explained, emotionless. “He gets it before each dose. Without it, he would scream at the top of his voice and frighten other patients. Stress can interfere with the results, which is highly undesirable.”

Bianka watched the bright, purple serum coursing through a rubber tube. When it reached the injection site, the man’s face contorted slightly. He made no sound, however. Mudry wrote down the parameter values before steering the trolley towards the exit.

“Let’s go, Bianka.” Dottore nudged her towards the corridor. “There are still a lot of patients left that we need to take care of.”

And so they did. Each room was a completely new experience. Some patients were conscious, others in comas. Some remained calm, others had submitted to utter resignation. Several even begged for mercy or a quick death, but Dottore and Mudry were deaf to these pleas. They came across an aggressive one too, who threw himself at Mudry as soon as he crossed the threshold of the room, with Dottore having to immobilise and sedate the man so that they could approach him safely.

As for all their states, Bianka saw people covered in scales, with skin as pale as plaster and as thin as parchment, as well as those whose veins were swollen and black from the poison coursing through them. Their napes bore a scar similar to her own, tracking devices implanted to prevent any hope of escape.

She took it all in, a growing despondence and helplessness filling up her chest. The entire underground emanated an aura of sadness, fear, and suffering. She never wanted to venture into this cursed place again.

Finally, after half an hour that seemed to last for aeons, they went through all the rooms and “looked after” each prisoner, as that was the only way to call these godforsaken people. On the other side of the corridor, opposite the main entrance, there was another door. She didn’t get to see what was behind it, however, as the men were already heading for the exit.

Hesitating, she approached Dottore. “Who are all these people? Where did they come from?”

Dottore glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “Most of them are criminals. Bandits, traitors, smugglers, murderers… They’ve been given the death penalty or imprisonment sentence for so long that they would never see the light of day again. However, I believe that killing is a senseless wastage of healthy individuals. By being part of the experiments, they still have a chance to serve their country in some way.”

Bianka wondered how many of them would have preferred to serve their original punishment rather than spend the rest of their lives in the grim basements. How painful of experiments did they have to undergo to beg for death? She glanced at the Harbinger’s face, but all she could see was cold, ruthless determination.

“And what is behind that door in the depths of the corridor?” Her curiosity wouldn’t let her drop the subject, no matter how gruesome.

Dottore looked over his shoulder, eyeing the mysterious passage in the distance. “Just another storage, nothing interesting.”

Bianka tried to throw the last hour out of her mind as soon as they crossed the threshold of the atrium.

“Come, I’ll show you the lift,” Dottore said when she headed for the ramp. “It leads close to the operating theatre.”

Then, he did something so unnatural that Bianka was afraid he had suffered some kind of seizure. Dottore lifted the corners of his mouth, parted his lips an inch, showing his sharp fangs, and widened his eyes. It was only after several moments that she realised he was trying to send her a reassuring smile. She knew that Dottore was perceptive and had certainly noticed her discomfort. Unfortunately, it had been a long time since he had needed to reassure anyone, so he unlearned all smiles that didn’t involve mockery or threats. As a result, the “friendly” expression on his face looked more like the grimace of a psychopathic murderer.

Lowering her gaze, she sighed heavily and nodded, reassured despite it all. Dottore put his hand on her back, and together they headed for the lift where Mudry was waiting. As they stepped inside, he narrowed his eyes.

Complete silence was the only right term for their ride back. After less than a minute, the door opened with a quiet hiss, startling poor Two, who scurried off.

A quiet snort resounded in the room. “Coward…” Four commented, passing by. Before Bianka had time to rebuke him for harassing others, the segment disappeared into one of the operating rooms.

“I trust you have a better idea of what the work of a palace scientist entails,” Dottore said, causing Bianka to tremble. “From time to time, you will assist Mudry and other segments with the test subjects. You are not allowed to go down there alone – a large part of the experiments we do require finesse, so someone must supervise your work.”

Bianka nodded. “Can I go back to my laboratory now?” she asked, wanting to occupy her thoughts with something else as soon as possible.

“Yes, I shouldn’t require any more help from you today. Remember, we’re meeting in the arena in the evening.”

She nodded again and, having bid them goodbye, walked off towards the main hall. Dottore stared for a long time at the door, which oscillated like a pendulum.

“You lied,” Mudry broke the silence. “Why?” He tilted his head.

Dottore still didn’t take his eyes off the exit. “You saw her behaviour in front of the patients; she was profoundly moved by the sight of them. I inferred that she would have reacted even worse to children.”

Mudry looked at the door, too. “You can try to protect her but be careful that you don’t hurt her even more by doing so. She’ll find out the truth eventually; may it not happen when you least expect it.”

He walked away, leaving Dottore in the company of his discomfort and churning thoughts.

****

Bianka knew this route well. All she had to do was leave the complex to find herself in the main atrium of the palace and turn into the corridor on the left.

After a few minutes’ walk, she reached a large arena connected to an outdoor training ground. It had been a long time since demonstrational fights were held here. Instead, it had become an excellent training ground for both young cadets and experienced captains. Occasionally, it was also visited by the Harbingers themselves, who always caused a great stir among those present. Ever since Bianka started training there, the crowd's excitement remained high. Of course, she was not naïve enough to think that she was the source of it. No, it was the frequent presence of the Doctor supervising her training that caused the warriors to lower their weapons and watch one of their most powerful superiors in action.

Usually, Dottore didn’t honour onlookers with even a passing glance – his appearance in the arena was for one specific purpose, and that was all that mattered to him. Bianka hasn’t decided yet whether she should feel honoured or horrified that she was his purpose.

As she stepped onto the arena’s sandy floor, she was struck by the familiar sounds of panting, snorting, gasping, clashing weapons, and pounding weights. Looking out through the double-leafed, permanently open gate leading outside, she saw a squadron training a drill under the guidance of their commander. The place was bursting at the seams, breathing life into the usually gloomy atmosphere of the palace.

Bianka walked away to the edge of the arena and started warming up, ignoring the whispers from people glancing in her direction. They didn’t bother her. Like Dottore, she didn’t come here to impress or make new acquaintances; others’ opinions weren’t important.

Her muscles’ strength still left a lot to be desired, but she had never before been as athletic as after Dottore’s training, so it was still something. Having done the initial stretching exercises, she jogged around the arena. Physical exertion helped clear her mind, which had to work at full capacity every day. Despite her sore muscles and general fatigue, she learned to appreciate these moments.

She ran past two agents; their ironic glances and mischievous grins didn’t escape her attention.

“Look at that weedy girl,” one of them said, not caring about any semblance of subtlety. “How did she manage to get close to the Zapolyarny Palace?”

“She probably jumped into some captain’s bed,” replied the other, “and now she thinks she’s the palace’s queen. I bet she won’t last a month before she runs away with her tail between her legs.”

Bianka gave no indication that she’d heard this exchange. In truth, their words were rather amusing. She may not be the strongest, but she knew that neither of the two men would have lasted as long at the Doctor’s side as she had.

As if hearing her thoughts, the silhouette of the Second Harbinger appeared in the corridor connecting the arena to the main atrium. The entire room froze for a few seconds, only to have everyone return to their activities with redoubled energy. As was his habit, Dottore didn’t pay the slightest attention to this behaviour, looking around the arena and searching for his assistant instead. Bianka raised her arm and waved at him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw pure horror painted on the agents’ faces.

“What is she doing!” the first one whispered.

"She must have suicidal tendencies," the second responded. "Let's get away from her!"

She stopped the giggle threatening to escape from her mouth just as Dottore made a beeline for her. Only now did she notice the small box in his hand.

“Already warmed up? Perfect,” he said, his voice jaunty. Both agents’ jaws dropped. “We can get straight to the point.”

“My lord, could we move closer to the entrance to the training ground?” she suggested, hoping that Dottore wouldn’t comment on her amused tone. “The cold air boosts concentration.”

Dottore nodded. “Good point. Let’s go then.”

Strolling past the gossipers, she sent them a sweet smile. It clearly would be better to practice away from them lest they suffer shock-induced apoplexy.

“What is up with these agents?” Dottore snapped her out of her thoughts. Of course, he had noticed their silly behaviour.

She smiled. “It’s nothing. But you know, I found out an interesting rumour today. Apparently, I jumped into your bed to win your favour and get into the Zapolyarny Palace. Do you perhaps recall such a scene? I, unfortunately, have no memory of our night together. A pity, really; it had to be extremely interesting.”

Had she been an ordinary soldier, she would have thought that Lord Dottore disregarded her words. However, she had spent more than three months in his company, and his tense shoulders and clenched jaw instantly became apparent.

Turning his head, he shot the fear-stricken delinquents a glance. Though Bianka couldn’t see his eyes, she knew there was a murderous urge in them.

“I’ll have them whipped,” he promised ominously. “Or no, I’ll send them to the scaffold straight—”

Bianka came closer and squeezed his forearm. “Don’t bother with such idiots. They aren’t worth your attention.”

Dottore finally stopped hurling thunderbolts at the two men. He turned around, grumbling as they continued walking.

Having chosen a convenient spot, he stopped and handed Bianka the box. She was aware of surreptitious glances cast in their direction but paid no attention to them, instead accepting the mysterious thing and opening the lid.

Inside were two pairs of decorated knives. The blades of the first were straight, their top edge serrated. The havoc they could wreak on the flesh of any unfortunate person was not a possibility but a promise. The second pair of knives looked like those used by the Pyro Agents –two curved blades, ending in a delicately outlined spike that allowed for backward stabbing.

In short, they were beautiful.

Bianka gazed at them in awe, lifting one with care and examining from all sides.

“They were custom-made, which is why I’m only handing them to you now,” Dottore explained. “Today, we’ll just check if they have appropriate weight and fit comfortably in your hands; then we’ll return to our training.”

Nodding, Bianka took the blades out. Listening to Dottore’s instructions, she circled, cut, and stabbed the imaginary enemy. The knives performed splendidly – they were perfectly fitted to her hand as if she had been born with them.

After some time, panting with both fatigue and excitement, she turned to the Doctor with a silent question in her eyes. Dottore, however, didn’t answer. He stood with his head tilted to the side, one hand resting on his chin and the other supporting his elbow. Bianka was familiar with this pose – many hypotheses and possibilities were now running through the Second Harbinger’s mind. She waited patiently for him to return to the world of the living.

After a minute, Dottore hummed and came closer. “I would like to try something different. So far, I’ve told you to fight in the style of the Snezhnayan Agents; now, I’ll show you some other moves.” He picked up the straight knives from the ground, leaving the curved blades to Bianka, and returned to his initial position. “Do as I do.”

Bianka had to admit that she felt unease as she stood in front of Dottore prepared to fight. With his legs slightly apart, tense arms, clenched jaw, and deadly weapons in hand, he looked truly terrifying. It was a relief that a mask covered his eyes; otherwise, she might not have been able to stand the tension.

Swallowing nervously, she copied the man’s position as accurately as she could. Though he didn’t make it easy. The sequences he showed her required far more speed and agility than the movements of ordinary agents. She had never encountered a similar fighting style. It was at times like this she was reminded that Lord Dottore was not a native Snezhnayan; a long life had allowed him to accumulate a vast amount of experience in many areas.

Despite the demanding steps, Bianka didn’t complain, too absorbed in the fight to notice her opponent’s increasing satisfaction. Many people were trying to repeat their moves, enamoured, clearly, with her mad scientist’s authority. The sight made a pleasant warmth bloom in her chest.

Wait. Did she just thought “her scientist?” Just a scientist. “Her?” She had no idea where that came from.

She pushed that thought as far down as she could, putting all her focus on training. A few minutes later, Dottore waved his hand to signal the end of this part of the training. They were both catching their breaths, but Bianka could tell that the Doctor was just as satisfied as her, especially when she raised her eyes to see a grin twisting his face.

He approached her and patted her on the shoulder. “I have decided.” He was rarely so cheerful. “Bianka, I’m going to teach you to fight like no one in all of Fatui can. Except me, but that goes without saying. Your fighting style will be unique, and an opponent you don’t know what to expect from is a dangerous one.”

Bianka smiled and bowed her head. “Thank you, my lord.” She was nearly breathless from excitement. “It’s an honour.”

The almost imperceptible grimace that flashed across Dottore’s face at the use of his formal title didn’t escape her attention.

He cleared his throat and crossed his arms behind his back. “That’s enough playing with knives for today; we can return to standard training. Wait here, I’ll bring the practice dummy.”

As he walked away towards the corner where the extra equipment was kept, Bianka lowered her head, deepening her breaths. She had to regain back some of her energy. There still was at least another hour of—

“Hey, comrade!”

Realizing the shout was directed at her, Bianka turned her head. The man staring at her was handsome, with red hair and eyes the colour of the arctic ocean’s depths. He was dressed in a grey jacket and trousers, a ruby earring dangling from his right ear and a red mask hanging jauntily from his head.

Emanating confidence, he sauntered towards her. Bianka knew who she was dealing with. Showing respect, she bowed her head. “What can I do for you, Lord Tartaglia?”

The young man laughed, scratching his head. “You don’t have to be so formal, I feel old when you title me like that.” He straightened up and sent her a congenial smile. “You can call me ‘Childe.’ You, on the other hand, must be Bianka, right?”

She couldn’t hide the shock that flashed across her face. Honour and anxiety were wrestling in her mind at the thought that another Harbinger knew her name. Did she really deserve such attention? “Yes, it is indeed me. Childe, could you tell from where you know my name?”

“Are you joking? You’ve been the main subject of palace gossip lately! The Doctor rarely appears in the company of anyone who is not a Harbinger and certainly never trains anyone personally. Everyone is wondering who you actually are.”

A cold sweat pricked at Bianka’s nape. From the beginning, her priority had been to maintain a low profile and focus on her assigned duties. This sudden popularity wasn’t a good sign.

She narrowed her eyes. “Does that mean you also want to know where I’m coming from?”

Tartaglia chuckled and shook his head. “I see that Dottore’s distrust has already started to transfer to you. Nothing of the sort; I have far less sophisticated intentions. My request involves fighting.”

“Fighting?!”

All Childe did was nod.

“You want me to fight – with you? But I can’t even hold a knife properly yet!”

“Easy, let me finish!” Childe said, laughing. “You see, the Doctor has never agreed to a friendly spar, even though I’ve begged him many times. I’d love to learn his fighting style; each Harbinger has its own, and learning new techniques is a hobby of mine. And that’s when you come in!” He pointed at her. “For reasons unknown to me, Dottore has deemed you worthy of his time and effort and has decided to train you. So, I propose a deal – when you’ve brushed up a little, we’ll spar together, and in return, I’ll teach you some useful tricks. What do you say?”

Bianka hesitated. Everyone knew what a privilege it was to be invited by one of the Harbingers, no matter how low in rank, to a friendly spar. However, by agreeing to this deal, would she somehow be betraying the Doctor? After all, his lessons were meant solely for her. But, on the other hand, he had never forbidden her to brag about her newly acquired skills.

Before she had time to decide, they heard his gruff voice.

“Leave her alone, Childe. You’d better go do something useful, like sweeping sand.”

Despite Dottore’s unfavourable attitude, Tartaglia bared his teeth in a smile. “I see you’re in good humour as usual. I just wanted to say hello to your new charge.”

“Yes, and you have certainly had enough time to do this now,” he grumbled, setting down the dummy he had brought with him, “so, goodbye.”

“I think I’ll listen to your suggestion,” Childe said, looking somewhere to the side. “As you would put it, a new variable has emerged.”

Bianka followed his gaze towards the exit to the training ground. In the distance, she saw an incredibly tall figure; his black clothing stood out starkly against the omnipresent white. As he came closer, her eyes widened in amazement. The clothing was, in fact, full armour, covering even the smallest patch of the stranger’s skin. She couldn’t see his face. Instead, she stared into the dark, yawning depths of his war helmet. Two chains dangling from the front of the mask clanked as he walked, anyone standing in his way quickly stepping aside and lowering their heads.

And no wonder, for the power of Capitano, the First of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers, was legendary.

Bianka glanced at the Doctor out of the corner of her eye – she was curious how he would behave in the presence of a person higher than him in the hierarchy.

Dottore remained calm; he gave the Captain an unobtrusive bow as he walked by. The man answered him with the same. Bianka immediately felt a liking for him.

“Time for me to go,” Childe spoke up, not taking his eyes off the newcomer. He leaned towards the researcher. “Think over my proposal.”

Having said that, he ran off to torture another Harbinger with requests for a training session.

“What did he want from you?” Dottore murmured right into her ear.

She hesitated. “Exactly what he told you. He just wanted to say hi.”

Dottore was silent for a few moments. Finally, he sighed and shook his head. “We need to work on coming up with a convincing lie on the spot. So far, you’re not doing a very good job of it.”

Bianka’s face twisted. She opened her mouth to defend herself, but nothing came to mind.

“I assume he was trying to get you to demonstrate the attacks I’m teaching you, right?” Bianka gaped at him, surprised. Dottore snorted with amusement. “Tartaglia may be a Harbinger, but he’s the most predictable of us. You’re not the first person he’s decided to impose on and definitely not the last. Just look at him.”

Bianka turned her gaze to the other Harbingers. A youthful excitement was beaming from Childe as he circled the Captain. She smiled sympathetically as Capitano responded to his companion, looking for a chance to escape at the same time – friendly sparring with Her Majesty’s youngest warrior wasn’t high on his list of priorities.

“What can you tell me about Childe?” she asked. “He seemed friendly and polite.”

“Don’t bother your head about him,” he quenched her curiosity. “He’s still young and inexperienced; you won’t learn anything from him that I couldn’t show you myself.”

Bianka hummed. “And Lord Capitano?”

“Don’t torment him, and he won’t torment you. Loyalty and commitment are high on his list of virtues – qualities you don’t lack, courtesy of the Knave, I presume, so you shouldn’t have any problems with him.”

She smiled. “I’m glad you have such a high opinion of me.”

Dottore looked away and cleared his throat. “Alright, no more chit-chat; it’s time for further training. Have you had time to rest yet?” She nodded. “Great, let’s start with the fighting stance…”

****

Having closed the door behind her, Bianka crawled to the bed and fell onto the mattress like a hollow log, letting out a long groan. She really should start looking after herself. Today’s exercise had robbed her of at least a week’s supply of energy. At one point, she felt so weak that Dottore made her lie on her back, lifting her legs to facilitate the flow of blood to her head. She sincerely hoped that this scene wouldn’t spawn further gossip.

After lying motionless for a few minutes, she managed (not without effort and considerable pain) to turn onto her back and sit up. Twilight had already settled, and the fire was crackling merrily in the fireplace, offering a nice blanket of comfort. She hadn’t suspected that she would feel at home here so soon. She crawled to the window to close the curtains but instead looked out into the darkened courtyard on a sudden whim. It so happened that her room overlooked the driveway in front of the main entrance, so she had a full view of who was entering and leaving the palace. Several carriages were just approaching the great doors. A moment later, soldiers began to emerge, looking uncertainly from side to side.

‘Fresh blood,’ she thought, smiling with empathy. Her own arrival wasn’t that long ago, so she perfectly understood their nervousness. The soldiers saluted when their sergeant appeared, listening for further orders. It was too dark for her to see their faces, though she had an irresistible impression that one of the silhouettes was strangely familiar. Suddenly, several heads turned towards her window. She quickly pulled back the curtains, not wanting to be caught peeping.

A wide yawn escaped her mouth. The soft bed has never looked more inviting. Having washed herself, she happily wrapped herself in the thick duvet and turned off the lone lamp, plunging the room into darkness that lulled her to sleep.

Chapter Text

In the morning, a few days after Bianka first arrived at the palace, she hadn’t even had time to remove her mask when, out of nowhere, a smiling Dottore materialised in front of her.

Never has his contentment meant something well; she instantly raised her guard. “Good morning. You look very excited. Did something good happen?”

“I have a gift for you,” he declared.

Bianka didn’t like this even more – not after the horror the Doctor’s last gift (which still lay proudly in front of her fireplace) caused her.

She smiled and shook her head, taking a step back. “You didn’t need to. I’m not missing anything if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m going to go to my workroom now – I need to add a reagent to the concoction; it’s essential, so—”

“Does that mean you don’t want my gift?”

Suddenly, sympathy gripped her heart, seeing his smile fall. She stopped on the way to her room and shot him a remorseful look. “No, that’s not what I… I just don’t think that bestowing me with more presents is necessary…”

“Ha!” An even wider smile returned to Dottore’s face. Archons, merry sparkles were lurking in his eyes. “You have no choice in the matter anyway! Let’s not waste any more time!”

“Wait a minute—"

Dottore was deaf to her protests. Before she could move, he grabbed her forearm with one hand and put the other on her back, pushing her towards the corridor leading to the operating theatre. Bianka tried to break free, but the Doctor’s grip could compete with a boa constrictor.

Having crossed the threshold of the swing door, they came face to face with Four. “What are you doing?” he snarled, quirking his lips. “Don’t you know how to behave around operating theatres?”

“Don't teach your father how to make children. I have performed hundreds of operations before you consisted of anything more than a single screw.”

Four glared.

“And besides, our goal lies in another room.”

Four narrowed his eyes. “You’re up to something, and I don’t like the idea of it.”

‘Have I met my soulmate at last?’ Bianka thought, amused.

”And what are you going to do about it? Throw yourself on the floor and block us with your body?"  Dottore mocked.

Four snorted. “I’m not going to let you wander around here without my knowledge. I’m coming with you.”

Dottore grumbled under his breath but didn’t argue. He steered Bianka onwards, with Four treading on their heels, and led them into the room with spare beds.

‘What does he want?’ she mused. ‘To try out a new mattress?’

The Harbinger stopped in the middle of the room and released her. She sprang to what was (hopefully) a safe distance and glared at both men. “So what has all this been about?”

Her anger didn’t make the expected impression on Dottore. Instead, he crooked his head mischievously. “What do you think of this?”

Bianka didn’t understand his question until he pointed to one of the beds. Her eyes bulged. On the soft duvet was a full set of new clothes – a light-coloured, warm, long-sleeved blouse, buff trousers, a thick jacket, and dark gloves, all of the highest quality materials. However, it was not these that caught Bianka’s attention. It was what was in the middle of the bed. Like the drawing card rested a beautiful, ornate mask in warm brown colours. Like Dottore’s, it covered the upper half of one’s face and resembled a bird of prey. Unlike his, however, it differed slightly in shape – the part that covered the cheeks was more rounded, and the beak was not as sharp and less defined. The mask was also equipped with eyeholes, so it didn’t give as much of a disturbing impression.

Bianka delicately lifted the mask, realising that the holes were not real holes after all. With great gentleness, she moved her thumb over the unfamiliar opaque material, separating the gaze of anyone who chose to wear the mask from the rest of the world.

“It's Fontainian glass,” Dottore explained. “It’s covered with a thin layer of metal. As a result, the person standing in front of you will only see their reflection, while for you, it will be as if you’re looking through a window."

Bianka sighed in delight, studying it even closer. Then, she felt someone gently remove the old mask from her face and toss it onto the bed.

“Go on, try it on,” Dottore murmured, voice close to her ear.

For reasons unknown to Bianka, a shiver ran down her spine. She looked at Dottore—

There was the sound of feigned retching from the doorway.

Instantly, whatever oppressive atmosphere was there dissipated. Dottore threw Four a displeased look, ostentatiously turning away from him. Bianka giggled, putting on her mask. Dottore was right – she could see just as well, if not better, than in the old one.

Her happiness was palpable. “It fits like a glove.”

Dottore snorted. “Of course it fits. It was made especially for you. Just like the rest of the clothes.”

Bianka glanced at the various pieces of her new outfit. “I’m grateful that you’ve gone to such lengths for me, but I have to ask: what exactly is it all for?”

Dottore smirked. “The palace is inhabited by many people, most of whom don’t stay here for long. Every day, someone new arrives, replacing those that left for missions. In a place with so much traffic, it’s not easy to secure a good position in the hierarchy. So I thought that to make it easier for you, I would make you an outfit similar to mine. Then everyone will know at a glance who you are subordinate to and that you’re not to be messed with.”

Bianka tilted her head. She hadn’t expected such an answer and wasn’t sure how she felt about it herself. The Doctor had no bad intentions, but his decision seemed condescending in a way. If she didn’t know him well, she would have thought that Dottore didn’t believe she could gain the respect of the other residents on her own. Something was telling her, however, that his aim was sincere – at this level, when she still had little experience in both combat and diplomacy, associating with her might have done him more harm than good. Perhaps she was still too naïve, thinking that she wouldn’t encounter any problems and disagreements in Her Majesty’s house. After all, Dottore knew the local hierarchy much better than she did.

Trusting him may be a better option.

“Well, well, Dottore, it is unlike you to be so concerned about the welfare of others.” Bianka smiled. “I must admit I’m impressed.”

The Harbinger bared his teeth. “You don’t know much about me yet, Bianka, which is why it’s easy to surprise you. Don’t keep us in suspense any longer; try on the rest.”

Dottore and Four averted their eyes while Bianka put on the rest of the clothes. There was no mirror in the room, though, so she couldn’t look at herself from a different perspective. Hopefully, she looked decent.

However, one thing wouldn’t give her peace of mind.

“The clothes are a good size, but is it really necessary for them to be so similar to yours?”

Indeed, the wide trousers immediately brought to mind Dottore’s slacks, not to mention the mask.

He merely shrugged. “What’s wrong with that? You don’t have to wear this outfit twenty-four hours a day; only if you’re planning to go outside the complex. Besides, it’s comfortable, isn’t it?”

She couldn’t disagree with him.

The creaking of the door stopped their conversation, and Bianka smiled when Mudry entered the room.

He nodded in greeting. “I won’t disturb you. I only came for my notebook; I think I left it in one of the drawers.”

“You’re never a disturbance, Murdy,” she replied. The segment’s face smoothed out as he shot her a grateful look. Four snorted and rolled his eyes. Bianka eyed him slyly. “You’re never a bother either, Four.”

Four crossed his arms and turned his head away. He pretended to be unmoved, but Bianka knew that her words had surprised him.

“I have something else for you,” Dottore said, refocusing her attention. He searched for something in his trouser pocket and held out his hand. “What do you think of this?”

Bianka furrowed her eyebrows. She really wanted to tell him how she felt, but couldn’t for a very simple reason – even though she was squinting, she couldn’t see anything.

She expressed her doubts. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about. It seems to me that there is nothing there.”

“Nonsense, come closer and have a better look.”

She approached Dottore and stared at his hand until dark dots danced before her eyes. Unfortunately, it didn’t bring much improvement.

“I think something is wrong,” she muttered. “Are you sure you’ve taken—"

As swift as lightning, Dottore grabbed the back of her head and pulled her close. Panicked, she jerked violently, but all she managed was to pull out a few of her hairs.

‘I knew it! I knew his gifts were just a ruse!’ All she could do was stand with her head resting on his chest, thoughts running a mile a minute as she attempted to come up with plan of escape.

Then, before she could do anything, she heard quick footsteps, and a second later felt a sharp, penetrating pain in her right ear. The scream that broke from her throat was filled with so much fury that she felt the Doctor shudder under her cheek. It lasted only a fraction of a second, but it was there.

‘You’ve decided to enter upon the warpath with me, yes? Perfect! I’ll show you!’

Using the opportunity, she yanked with enough force to break free from Dottore’s grasp (leaving another portion of her hair in his hand) and swung her arm blindly. A loud SMACK! rang out across the room as she hit his cheek. Someone grabbed her arm. Mudry. Sputtering with fury, she began to struggle, bumping into the bed frame. Despite his age, in terms of strength, he was equal to his creator, so it wasn’t easy. Bianka had to put all the power she possessed into violently kicking the man away. The segment lost his grip, tumbling on his back. The force of the momentum caused her to fall onto one of the beds.

Before she could sit up, there was a high-pitched screech, followed by an ice projectile hitting the wall a moment later.

“Don’t shoot, or you’ll kill her!” Dottore shouted as Bianka picked herself up, noticing Two by the doorway with a horrified expression plastered onto his face.

“You fools!” Four roared, Two instantly disappearing. “Did you really think she would just let it go? Which one of you came up with this idiotic idea?!”

“I also advised against it,” Mudry said, sounding as calm as if he hadn’t wiped out at all just now, “but Master thought it would be the right thing to do.”

“You call your creator a fool?!” Dottore raged, crushing Four with his eyes. “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even be—"

If the Second Harbinger had been more careless, he would probably already be lying unconscious with a huge lump on his head. Fortunately, Dottore’s vigilance bordered on paranoia. Because of this, he saw Bianka out of the corner of his eye, who, having crawled to the bedside table, grabbed the nearest available object, which turned out to be a lamp. She threw it straight at his face. He dodged, though the unfortunate lamp didn’t hit the wall, as one might suspect. Instead, it slammed into the even more unfortunate Four, who was standing exactly on the trajectory of its epic flight.

The Doctor roared with laughter as the segment screamed in pain and grabbed his nose, from which some sort of blueish substance began to ooze. “See? This is what happens when one of you defies me!”

Four looked like he was dreaming of ripping out Dottore’s tongue and making it into a Gordian knot. Fortunately, Mudry had inherited Dottore’s vigilance and, seeing what was afoot, stood between them.

“I know that every insult demands blood, but for now, I propose to focus on a more pressing problem.”

All three turned towards Bianka, who had run to the other bedside table and was already intending to make another throw.

Dottore smirked. “Get her.”

Before she could even blink, three pairs of hands snatched the lamp from her and threw her on the bed. Growling, she wriggled like an eel, hoping to slip and escape the room. Meanwhile, Dottore took a hand-held mirror from his pocket and pointed it at her face, holding her jaw with his other hand.

“Calm down and look!” he ordered.

With her head immobilised, she couldn’t do otherwise. The upper half of her face was obscured, while the lower half was distorted by a grimace of anger. She had to admit that the mask matched her both in colour and shape. Unlike the Doctor’s eyeless mask (which only heightened the sinister aura it exuded), the openings reminiscent of two almonds gave her gentleness.

And then, abruptly, she saw the reason for the recent battle. From her previously undistinguished ear now dangled an earring filled with the most precious substance in Dottore’s arsenal – the potion that gave him immortality. However, hers was smaller and shaped like a drop of water or a tear.

Despite the dull pain piercing the insertion site and the rage still consuming her, she had to admit that she quite liked the earring. However, the last thing she wanted to do right now was let the brutish beasts know. So instead, she grunted with displeasure and showed them her tongue.

“Oh, come on, don’t be like that.” Dottore took his hand away from her face, pressing his finger into her cheek instead. Bianka immediately tried to bite it. “Are you offended?”

“I apologise for this small deception, Bianka,” Mudra piped in, attempting to alleviate the situation. “Master has decided that the best way to get your ear pierced stress-free is not to mention it to you.”

“And didn’t ‘Master’ think that a better solution would be to drop the idea altogether?” she snapped.

“That’s not an option; after all, you have to present yourself with dignity at the banquet.”

Bianka furrowed her eyebrows, anger melting away. “Banquet?”

Dottore nodded. “I am leaving tomorrow to attend the funeral; a formal banquet will be held the day after to honour the memory of Lady Signora and raise morale among the soldiers saddened by her death at the same time. Attendance is compulsory for all Harbingers.”

“But I’m not a Harbinger.”

He grinned. “That’s true, but you’re a Harbinger’s deputy.” He tilted his head. “Don’t make such a stupid face; it doesn’t suit you. I guess that you are unaware of your status. Mudry will elucidate it for you later. But for now, we have to deal with a more important issue.”

"Which is?" she asked slowly.

To her horror, Dottore pulled from behind him a full-body harness.

"Oh no! Over my cold, dead—!"

The wild struggle heated up anew. This time, it was accompanied by Bianka’s desperation who inexplicably freed herself from the segments’ shackles and found herself under the bed. Four tried to get her out by grabbing and pulling at her ankles, but she clung to the foot of the bed, causing him to start moving the entire piece of furniture. He only stopped when Dottore told him to, after which fierce negotiations began. In the end, Bianka agreed to leave her shelter on the condition that the decorative stripes would surround her body only on Tuesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays, a compromise that Dottore had only begrudgingly accepted.

After getting back on her feet, Bianka waited for further revelations; luckily, these didn’t come. To her immense relief, Dottore assured her that there were no more “surprises” for her.

“I must get back to overseeing the experiment,” he said in passing. “Mudry will find you something to do and explain the importance of your position in the process.”

He then disappeared, leaving her alone with the two segments. She eyed them with distrust.

“Relax, the Doctor was telling the truth, we won’t torment you anymore,” Mudry assured. “Or at least not in this way. I have a proposition for you. Why don’t you come with me and help me in the infirmary? It’s high time for me to check in there and see if any of the patients need the care of a more experienced doctor. Unfortunately, because of my status, I don’t have a very good reputation among agents and other soldiers. But your presence could help calm them down.”

Bianka pursed her lips. She had never been in a palace infirmary before. It could be an interesting experience. Maybe caring for the patients would help her forget the pain and irritation too.

She nodded. “Okay, I’ll help you as much as I can.”

“Excellent. In that case, we can go there right away.” He turned his gentle gaze to Four, who looked as bored and apathetic as ever. “Would you like to come with us? I know you also have some work to do there.”

The segment looked at him out of the corner of his eye, then shrugged. “I can come. Provided she doesn’t start acting like a rabid animal again.”

Anger shook Bianka’s body. “Hey, I’m not the one who started—"

“Bianka will surely remain calm and follow our orders without objecting,” Mudry interrupted, placing his hand on her shoulder. “Right?”

“Of course, I’m not going to make a scene,” she growled. “I don’t know how you came up with this absurd idea. I know how to behave among other people.”

Four rolled his eyes but didn’t try to argue. “In that case, let’s be on our way.”

He left the room, Bianka and Mudry close behind. Passing through the main hall, they came across Fripon, who was trying to mix two colourless liquids. The sight made Bianka furrow her brows. He shouldn’t have been left alone.

“Bianka, where are you—”

She ignored Mudry and walked to the work table. Now closer, she could see that the liquids were labelled, “NITRATING ACID” and “TOLUENE” in big, bold letters. Her eyes nearly fell out of their orbits. She threw herself at Fripon and snatched the beaker from his hand before he could pour the liquid. He glanced at her in surprise.

“Fripon,” Bianka began, her tone unnaturally calm, “can you explain why you tried to create TNT? And in the very heart of the laboratory?”

Fripon bared his teeth in a wide smile. “It was supposed to be a gift. A tribute to you.”

“…You intended to create TNT, used to produce dynamite, as a tribute to me?”

Fripon nodded vigorously. He was staring at her with absolute adoration, shifting nervously from foot to foot, his cheeks hot from blushing. “I heard you screaming and Two told me the rest,” he said. “Did you really throw a lamp at Dottore?”

Bianka frowned. He was showing all the basic symptoms of a person who has been given the honour of talking to their idol. “I did… but—”

Fripon’s eyes sparkled. “See, that’s why I’m making the TNT! So you can throw that instead—”

“No, no, no,” Bianka cut in, shaking her head rapidly. “It wasn’t wise of me; I shouldn’t have acted that way at all. Forget about it, do you hear?”

“What are you so concerned about?” Four snapped. “He’s in no position to harm anyone. Stop worrying about everything and come on. The patients are waiting for us.”

Before she could protest, he pulled her by the arm, leading her to the exit. She managed to spot Two, who was peering at them from the corner of the hall, and sent him a pleading look. She wasn’t sure but hoped that she saw him nod. Suddenly, darkness fell around them, before they found themselves in a small room serving as the laboratory’s atrium. Dottore, wearing a protective helmet, was sitting at the only table and welding two plates. An almost imperceptible movement of his head in their direction was the only indication that he was aware of their presence.

Within the confines of the laboratory, everyone walked around without masks. These masks were left on a cabinet by the main entrance, where they formed a unique mosaic resembling circus props. Bianka glanced at it, then watched as the two segments grabbed theirs and put them on their faces before leaving, gesturing for Bianka to follow.

She knew the masks were Dottore’s (and the other segments’) obsession. They were the most significant element of their clothing. Each of them was unique, just like their wearers.

Mudry’s mask was dark blue and angular, covering only the lower part of his face and allowing the distinctive red of the Doctor’s eyes to be seen even by the uninitiated. It extended past his jawline, eventually curving upwards, with a jagged line running through its length, resembling sharp teeth.

Four's mask, on the other hand, covered his entire face except for his right cheek and half of his mouth. It was white and navy blue, with the mark of the Fatui embossed on its upper left side.

A dull pain pulsing in her lobe snapped Bianka out of her reverie. With each step, the earring dabbed against her jaw, emanating a soft blue light.

“You were supposed to tell me about my status or something,” she reminded Mudry gruffly, still angry with him for his betrayal.

He hummed, nodding. “Yes, that was the deal.” He fell silent for a few seconds, thinking about his next words. “I don’t have much to tell you. You are first and foremost the First Assistant of the Second Harbinger, but that’s not all. Dottore trusts you more than the other subordinates; no one else knows as many of his secrets as you do. Most people aren’t aware of The Segments’ creation too, still convinced that there is only one Second Harbinger. For all these reasons, as well as the fact that he trains you in combat, the residents of the palace consider you to be his deputy.”

Bianka furrowed her brows. “That’s interesting, but what does that mean for me? That I have to do his paperwork for him?”

“You are his deputy,” he deadpanned, “and thus, you are the second most important figure in his division. Meaning that if the Doctor or any of us are not around, you take full command. Anyone under the authority of the Second Harbinger must obey your orders.”

Bianka nearly crashed into the wall. “Can I really give orders to other soldiers?” she asked in disbelief. “Even captains and colonels?”

The power, surprisingly, didn’t scare her. In fact, it almost excited her. It was frighteningly easy to accept—be complacent and even happy with.

Mudry grunted. “In theory, yes. In practice, I don’t think you’ll have many opportunities to do so. Being the Doctor’s assistant is your main job; therefore, you’re spending and will continue to spend most of your time with him. In his presence, your leadership skills won’t be needed.”

Mudry had a flair for dampening her enthusiasm. ‘All good things end quickly,’ she thought with a growing despondency. She quickly recovered, however – the very knowledge that she was no longer just a simple scientist boosted her confidence.

The infirmary was located on the first floor. This didn’t seem like a logical idea; after all, patients had to climb a series of stairs to receive treatment. However, a lift was installed for the gravely ill and injured patients, leading directly to the infirmary. As they crossed its threshold, Bianka’s nostrils were assaulted by the familiar stench of antiseptics. There was quite a commotion, too. Patients were waiting for their turn while doctors and nurses ran between beds divided by screens. Those rays of sunshine that managed to break through the heavy clouds and the eternal blizzard illuminated the complex.

“Why are there so many soldiers here?” Bianka asked, intrigued. “It looks as if a whole division has gathered here.”

“That’s because a whole division has gathered here,” Mudry replied. “These agents were sent to decimate the nearby population of Rifthounds, which have spread near the capital. I don’t think I need to tell you how brutal and dangerous these creatures are?”

He didn’t have to. When she was still one of the children of the House of the Hearth, her guardians repeatedly told them to never approach the terrifying abyssal wolves and instead run away as fast as they could. In addition to their deadly claws and fangs, the wounds they inflicted refused to heal due to the toxic corrosion. This corrosion was something she could see on the patients right now, their scratches and scars pulsing with a purplish glow.

“Then our job is to cleanse them of the curse?” she asked.

“Indeed. Usually, our medics are perfectly capable of dealing with such diseases, but when there are so many patients, they could use our help. We’ll take care of the most severe cases.”

Mudry strode across the room. At the sight of him, all conversation froze, the gathered turning their heads to follow him with watchful eyes. Despite his good intentions, it was clear as day that the soldiers didn’t trust him.

Bianka started to follow, then paused when she noticed Four heading into another room. “Aren’t you coming with us?”

Four scoffed. “I didn’t come here to babysit inept rookies. I have a more important mission. When you’re done, come and see me; maybe you’ll learn something interesting.”

Having said that, he closed the door behind him. Bianka shook her head – Four was truly incorrigible.

She returned to Mudry’s side, not wanting to miss a single opportunity to learn. “How do you know which patients we should take care of? There are a lot of them, and more than one looks badly injured.”

“Ah, the physicians make that decision.”

Doctors rushed by them without a second glance. “But they’re not communicating those decisions to us.”

“You see, Bianka, when patients hear that they will be attended to by the Second Harbinger, it doesn’t please them. This kind of information can downright sow fear in their souls. That’s because the rumours claim that the Doctor only deals with hopeless cases, ones that can no longer be fully healed. And what happens to people for whom there is no rescue? They end up as research subjects in some ‘sick experiment,’ as they like to call it. This is, of course, a load of nonsense, but many believe it. Such delinquents usually start screaming at the sight of us.” Suddenly, a piercing shriek resounded through the room. “Oh, do you hear that? This is our patient.”

Bianka snorted with laughter, walking towards the howling man. Her expression soured, though, seeing the deep, bleeding wounds covering his arm and chest. The soldier’s face was pale, his forehead streaked with sweat, and the first signs of madness were making his eyes bloodshot. At the sight of the segment, he began to squirm, trying to get off the bed.

Bianka put her hand on his healthy shoulder and smiled as gently as she could. “Hello, my name is Bianka Snezhevna. The Doctor and I have come to help you.”                                        

“S-Snezhevna?” the man groaned. “Then what are you doing in the company of the Second Harbinger? Shouldn’t you be obeying Lady Arlecchino’s orders?”

“Lady Arlecchino decided that my skills would be of best use to Lord Dottore, so I am his subordinate.”

The man swept his gaze from Bianka to Mudry and back again. His terror was palpable.

Mudry reached out his hand to touch the area around the slashes when suddenly, their patient screamed and began to thrash like a fish pulled out of water. “No! Get away from me, you—"

Then, he made a sound as if he had begun to choke, a trickle of dark blood flowing from his mouth.

“Bianka!” The woman flinched. It was the first time Mudry had ever raised his voice. “Hold his arm. You—” he shouted to some medic, “—get over here and help her!”

While they tried with all their might to immobilise the delirious man, Mudry grabbed a previously prepared syringe from a nearby tray and jabbed the needle into the patient’s deltoid. The man wailed, arching his back as Bianka and the medic braced themselves against the floor, using all their strength to pin him to the bed. When the medication finally took effect to sedate the patient, she and the medic released their hold, stepping back to let Mudry take command.

“That was terrible,” Bianka remarked after he finished cleaning and bandaging the patient’s wounds. “Do all patients react like that?”

“No,” Mudry replied, administering another drug. “This man’s wounds were extensive, and the corrosion was deep. It probably began to take over his mind, which is why he was so violent and aggressive.” He backed away, closing the screen behind him. “We’ll see if he survives through the night.”

Bianka hoped he would. She would pray to the Tsaritsa in the evening. Maybe the goddess of ice and love would be willing to save the soldier’s life.

“When we’ll be treating women, things should go a little better,” Mudry added.

A spark of curiosity made Bianka perk up. “And why is that?”

“How to explain it… Men are made to solve problems with curses and clenched fists. When they have no control over what happens to their bodies, they become anxious. Women are more likely to trust doctors and nurses with their health, so they are usually able to remain calm."

Suddenly, another shriek rang through the room, this time emanating with certainty from the throat of a representative of the fair sex. Mudry sighed. “But unfortunately, in biology and life, anything is possible, and you’ll come across freaks of nature relatively often.”

Bianka stifled the giggle growing in her chest. “For example, we might come across a certain Bianka who is afraid of needles.”

A shiver of satisfaction shook her body when she saw Mudry squint with amusement. “I’m glad you understand what I mean,” he replied.

Fortunately, taking care of the other patients went without any major problems. Bianka proved to be a valuable member of the team – when they encountered an anxious patient, she would hold their hand or distract them with conversation so that Mudry could treat wounds and administer medications without interruption.

At last, two hours later, when all the wounded were resting and undisturbed by pain and fear, Bianka was wobbling on her feet, her muscles screaming for a moment’s respite.

“Good job, Bianka,” Mudry praised. “We have nothing more to do here. Go back to the lab and get some rest.”

“No, I can’t yet,” she said, head foggy and pierced ear pulsing. “I promised Four that I would come to him when we were done with the patients. He wanted to show me something.”

Mudry arched his brow. “The phlegmatic and reserved Four decided to teach you something? Well, well, that’s a surprise. In that case, you’d better not make him wait any longer, lest he changes his mind.”

He nodded goodbye, leaving the infirmary, and Bianka lowered her gaze. “Reserved…” she repeated. Shaking herself off, she headed for the room where the other segment had disappeared earlier.

Closing the door, she looked around at her new surroundings. Unlike Mudry, who used her assistance only, there were quite a few other medics and scientists around Four. The segment himself stood near a table swamped with papers, looking through documents sorted into identical white folders. On the other side of the room were medical instruments used to test basic vital signs and fitness. Then, connected to several machines, was a muscular man running on a treadmill. A mask covering his nose and mouth measured his breathing, and electrodes affixed to his chest showed an electrical image of the workings of his rapidly beating heart.

“There you are at last.” Four espied her, waving his hand. She walked towards him. “It took you longer than I suspected, so you won’t see much more. There are only three patients left.”

Bianka glanced at the sheets of paper scattered on the tabletop and shifted her gaze to the examined man. “What is the purpose of this research? Is he a special task soldier?”

Four hummed. “You could say that. If his results are satisfactory, he will be ‘enhanced.’”

Bianka narrowed her eyes. She was sure she had heard the term before. “What does it mean? That they’ll be stronger than others? And how can this be done?”

“Whoa, not so fast!” Four snarled. “You think I’m just going to share all my hard-earned knowledge with you? You’ve only been here a few days; I don’t think you realise how lucky you are to be shown anything at all. If it were up to me, you’d be just another ordinary assistant, but Dottore clearly has other plans for you. So stop yapping before I send you back to the lab for interfering with our work."

Bianka huffed in frustration, sitting down at the table. Four was by far the most gruff and least trusting of the segments. It would be hard to break down the barriers he surrounded himself with. Nevertheless, she was prepared to try, making more cracks and fissures on its surface until it shattered into a thousand pieces. But for now, she decided not to pester him anymore, hoping that he’d explain the mechanism behind the mysterious procedure to her in his own time.

Eventually, the treadmill began to slow. While the man was panting heavily, trying to catch his breath, one of the scientists approached Four and handed him a record of the parameters. Four’s analysis was quick – the patient had passed. That much Bianka gleamed when the scientist returned to the patient and smiled, offering him some congratulations. The man reciprocated the smile, puffing out his chest before they both disappeared into another room.

The next soldier didn’t fare so well. When the test was over, Four waved his hand, ordering him to leave the room. Bianka felt a stab of sympathy when she saw his hung head and fearful eyes. Were there consequences if the soldiers didn’t pass? This man’s reactions certainly made it seem so.

The last subject, at least, passed the test and was also escorted to an adjoining room. Once the examinations were completed, Four sat down at the table next to Bianka and began sorting the individual sheets into binders, putting a lopsided signature on each one.

After about five minutes, he stacked the files and stretched. “Well, I think that medic had enough time to prepare them. Let’s go and see if we can proceed.”

Curious, Bianka followed him into the room where the soldiers and scientists had disappeared. Against the walls stood two rows of beds, five of which were occupied. In addition to the two familiar men, three others lay there, each of different height, stature, and mass. They seemed to be unresponsive to what was happening around them.

“Were they sedated?” Bianka asked when Four approached one of them and lifted his eyelid.

“More like stunned,” he corrected. “The substance they were given works very quickly. It’s a bit like drinking pure ethanol instead of beer. They will be unconscious for the next few hours.”

She furrowed her brows. “Why? Is this ‘enhancement’ that unpleasant?”

“Indeed, and for that reason, they might not be willing to undergo it voluntarily. Putting them to sleep will ensure that they don’t decide to pack up their bags and cut their stick.”

Bianka’s hair stood on end. “You mean they don’t even know what you’re going to do with them?”

“Bravo, Bianka, your powers of deduction are, as usual, at a very high level.” Four’s voice was leaking with sarcasm..

She didn’t pay attention to it. “And what happens when they finally wake up and realise that their bodies or minds are not what they used to be? Aren’t you afraid they’ll go berserk?”

“What do you think they could do?” he retorted. “Once they are enhanced, no force can bring them to their previous state. Anger or fear won’t change anything. Besides, each of them knows that Her Majesty’s plans require sacrifices.”

Sudden sadness made her flinch. She knew sacrifices were an inevitable part of being a Fatui member. But they were still tragic. Having your body permanently altered while unconscious? It wasn’t fair. But she knew she couldn’t oppose Four. Doing so would be undermining the decision of the Second Harbinger.

A resigned sigh escaped her mouth as she nodded. Four hummed, satisfied with her obedience, then turned to the only medic present in the room.

“You, grab one bed and help us get them downstairs,” he snapped. The medic went to carry out the order as quickly as possible. “Bianka, you take care of the second one, and I’ll take the last. We’ll come back here for the other subjects.”

As they each moved one bed away from the wall, the segment headed for a door on the other side of the room. It turned out to be another lift, spacious enough for all three of them to fit in there, along with their patients. Four put his hand to the panel, and the plastic flap blocking access to the buttons swung open. Pressing one of them, the door closed with a quiet hiss. When it opened again several seconds later, Bianka realised that they were back in the laboratory near the operating theatre.

Four pushed the bed, leading the medic while Bianka brought up the rear. Having reached the room where the memorable battle had taken place only hours earlier, they left the patients and returned for the rest.

“I’ve noticed,” Bianka said after Four dismissed the medic, “that not everyone who qualifies for the ‘enhancement’ is strong and athletic.”

They were in the familiar corridor again, pushing the beds in front of them.

“Look at this one,” she said when Four didn’t respond, pointing at her patient. “He’s clearly obese and doesn’t look like he enjoys exhausting training. Can he truly be enhanced in any way?”

“It’s not about their fitness or physical stamina but about whether they will survive the whole procedure. It puts a lot of strain on the subject’s body. Only those with a high regenerative capacity and a functioning immune system will get through it with few side effects. Weaker individuals could get killed.”

She shuddered, imagining all those people who didn’t survive the experiment but were key to defining the parameters a person had to meet to get rid of their body’s limitations forever, most definitely at the cost of their health and appearance.

“Can you tell me anything more?” she asked. “What’ll happen to their bodies?”

Four sighed as if he was already getting tired of her curiosity. “I don’t feel like explaining the whole procedure to you. Especially since I don’t know if you’re even allowed to possess such knowledge. However, as far as their appearance and capabilities are concerned, they shouldn’t be unfamiliar to you. I’m sure you have seen enhanced soldiers many times before. They are bigger, stronger, and fiercer, and combined with the power of one of the seven elements, every opponent should be on guard. Is something dawning on you?”

Bianka did indeed find this description familiar. She could count the number of times she had been on the frontline or in agent camps on the fingers of one hand, but she remembered the almost superhuman-like ones with their snow-white hair, bandaged faces, and agile bodies. She’d never thought before that each of them must have undergone complex operations in the unsettling laboratory of the powerful and terrifying Doctor.

Back in the room with beds, they found Two looking for something in the bedside cabinets. As usual, he flinched at the sight of them and tried to hide behind a piece of furniture.

“Two! Stop acting like a crybaby who saw a monster under their bed; just come here and help us!” Four hissed. “We need to get them to the operating theatre.”

Hesitating, the younger segment left his hiding place and walked closer, avoiding Bianka by a wide margin. He grabbed the bed’s frame and followed the others, who had already left the room

When Bianka tried to enter through the double doors separating the theatre from the rest of the laboratory, Four firmly shook his head.

“Not you, you can’t go in there yet,” he said.

Bianka had had enough of this patronising treatment.

“Why not?” she snarled. “You said yourself that you would teach me something. How am I supposed to understand your explanations if you won’t show me anything?”

“Dottore hasn’t consented to your presence during the procedure. Until he changes his mind, you’ll have to settle for other activities.”

Without waiting for her answer, he disappeared inside the suite, leaving her alone with Two. She squeezed the bridge of her nose to preserve the remnants of her composure. Why does he have to be so difficult? Is it that hard to not compla—

“Don’t worry, he’s always like that. Give him some time, and he’ll eventually start to trust you.”

She snapped her head up and turned towards Two, who looked as if he regretted having spoken at all. Startled by her sudden movement, he cowered reflexively, watching her next move.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, wanting to do anything to encourage his trust in her. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you saying this is his normal behaviour?”

Two slowly nodded. “Four may have a lot of patience for other people, but he needs someone who understands his reserve and gives him time to get comfortable too.”

Bianka hummed, pondering his words. She then straightened up, an idea forming in her mind. “Could you call him here for a moment? It’s important, and I don’t want to irritate him by not listening to his order.”

Two hesitated, eventually muttering a quick “OK” before his glaze clouded over. After a few minutes, they saw Four again, who couldn’t hide his anger.

“You’re starting to get on my nerves! Don’t you understand that I’m in the middle of—"

“I would like to give you a name, Four,” Bianka interrupted. “Will you listen to my proposal? It won’t take long.”

Her words effectively shut his mouth, genuine surprise now evident in his raised brows. Two then stiffened, summoning the others. A moment later, they were joined by Mudry, steady as a rock, and an excited Fripon. Last to arrive was Dottore, who looked as annoyed as he was amused.

“What’s this, we’re playing christening again?” he sneered. “Aren’t you bored of making up names yet, Bianka?”

She shook her head. “If I’ve already started it, I have to finish it, don’t I? If Four agrees, of course.”

The segment looked around at the faces of those gathered, who were staring at him in silent anticipation. Finally, he sighed and massaged his forehead. “All right, fine. Let’s get this over with. Speak quickly, I’m busy.”

Bianka smiled, moving in front of the man. All the others took a step closer as if they were about to become confidants of a great secret.

“Four, you are cautious and don’t easily place your trust in other people, thus guarding the secrets of the Second Harbinger.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and lowered his gaze.

“Because of your vigilance, I would like to give you the name Ayaz. Are you satisfied with such a proposal?”

Four’s demeanour screamed of someone who wanted to seclude themselves in their room and cut themselves off from the rest of the world for the next month. He opened his mouth, closed it, then shook his head as if shunning unpleasant thoughts. “All the same. Call me whatever you want, I don’t care.”

Before anyone had time to stop him, he scooted into the operating theatre. Bianka frowned. The others didn’t react like that after they got their names. Did he hate it?

Mudry broke the silence first. “Hmm, it went better than I thought.”

“That’s right, he must have liked it,” Fripon confirmed.

“Really?” Bianka couldn’t believe it. “He looked as though my words were a personal affront to him.”

“That’s because you haven’t had time to get to know him well yet,” Dottore said. “You saw how quickly he ran away. Rarely does anyone show him so much understanding and patience. You flustered him.”

Bianka blinked. The last thing she anticipated was that her idea would cause Ayaz such a storm of thoughts and emotions.

“Come on, Bianka,” Dottore then said as the others dispersed. “We need to take care of a few things. What do you say I tell you a bit about the upcoming banquet?”

If her ears had the ability to move, they would have perked upwards. She took off her mask and looked at him with a glint in her eye. “I’m all ears.”

Dottore smiled and turned towards the main hall. “All right, let’s start with the—”

A powerful bang accompanied by the sound of breaking glass echoed somewhere in front of them.

He stopped dead in his tracks. “What the…” He turned to Bianka as if she was the cause of the commotion.

In any other situation, she would be annoyed, but not now. Now she was terrified because, yes – she was the cause of the commotion (indirectly, at least).

She covered her mouth, looking at the Doctor with fear. “F-Fripon…”

Dottore’s eyes bulged. Without hesitation, he darted down the corridor, shouting: “Fripooooon!” with venom.

Despite the dangerous situation and fear for the youngest segment, Bianka burst out laughing and rushed to follow Dottore. Not a chance she could miss this scene.

Chapter Text

It turned out that Bianka hadn’t yet learned the full power of Fripon’s mischief.

Having reached the middle of the hall, she and Dottore noticed that the table used to produce the immortality potion had almost blown up. The workshop itself was still standing, but unfortunately, they couldn’t say the same about the test tubes. The shiny blue liquid adorned everything within a ten-metre radius. Fripon stood beside his opus, covered from head to toe in the wondrous substance, and puffed out his chest.

Bianka glanced out of the corner of her eye at Dottore. Seeing the expression on his face, fear that she was about to witness “infanticide” wasn’t so unfounded.

“Bianka!” Fripon exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. “This is for you!” He pointed to the desolation that was Dottore’s workshop just five minutes ago. Then, the tabletop cracked in half, collapsing inwards with a bang. “You’re my idol!”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Bianka almost roared with laughter again. She refrained, however, out of fear at the Harbinger frozen beside her, who was now certainly only moments away from a spontaneous explosion.

"Fripon…” His voice carried malice. “You will now come with me to the atelier, lie down on the table, not a peep out of your mouth, and I will deactivate you for the next—"

He didn’t manage to finish. The buzzing sound from his earring interrupted him – it was time for another dose of medicine. Taking advantage of his moment of hesitation, Fripon dashed from the scene of the crime so fast that he was just a blur in Bianka’s eyes.

“Damn it.” Bianka turned her gaze to Dottore, who was squeezing the bridge of his nose. His anger had eased, replaced by clear fatigue. “Where am I going to get the potion from now?”

“What do you mean?” she asked. “Can’t you just use the one from the earring?”

“Lady Signora’s funeral is tomorrow,” he replied. “All of the Harbingers will be present, including the Jester and Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa. I have to present myself with dignity, and the earring is one of the most distinctive elements of my attire. Surely everyone would notice that the liquid filling it has disappeared somewhere, don’t you think?”

Indeed, the earring stood out a lot, as did the oblong tube hanging from his torso. Perhaps he could use some of the potion from one of the hourglasses? If he stood sideways to the assembled people, no one should notice the change. Or one of the segments could lend him the liquid. She was about to tell him her idea when she realised that Dottore was staring at her… Well, was staring at something next to her head, to be precise. She raised her eyebrows questioningly. The corners of his lips lifted.

“Hey, Bianka,” he began. “Lend me the potion from your earring. I’ll give it back to you when I make the next batch.”

And with that, she was forced to return part of the gift he gave her a few hours earlier. She received no compensation for this, not even in the form of information about the banquet, for Fripon’s prank had so agitated him that he had completely forgotten about his promise.

Bianka sighed and shook her head.

****

Bianka was left alone. Or at least that was her impression when no silhouette of the Doctor was in sight.

Dottore had left first thing in the morning for the chapel, where every Harbinger was expected to say a final farewell to their dead companion before she became one with the surrounding ice and snow. He insisted on bringing a test tube with a new batch of the concoction with him – after Fripon’s performance, he no longer trusted the segments enough to let them handle it. Bianka was to continue working on her own toxins, helping others if the need arose.

In keeping with the saying, “When the cat’s away, the mice will play,” the atmosphere was noticeably looser in Dottore’s absence. For the first few hours, the murmur of conversation, the laughter of the youngest segment, and occasional shouts of exasperation reached Bianka’s ears. The sounds reminded her of the time spent in the Main Research Institute and her old friends, pleasant warmth blooming in her chest.

At some point, however, all sounds ceased simultaneously, her initial curiosity quickly turning into concern. It was not natural for the chatter to disappear so suddenly. What if something ominous had happened? Seeking reassurance, she glanced at Kurage, who was running in a wheel. He seemed to sense her stress – having descended onto the tabletop, he stood on his hind legs and looked at her with beady eyes. Making up her mind, Bianka grabbed Kurage and tucked him into the front pocket of her apron before leaving the workroom.

When she reached the hall, she noticed Two, Ayaz, and Fripon standing in different parts of the room and staring into space. Bianka didn’t have to be a genius to know they were using the mental connection right now.

She walked over to Ayaz and patted him lightly on the shoulder. “Hey, what’s going on?”

Instead of answering, Ayaz growled and turned his back to her. She looked at him bewildered. They weren’t burning with passion for each other, that much she knew, but such resentment seemed rather strong.

She tried her luck elsewhere. None of the other segments showed any obvious aversion, but they also didn’t explain the current situation. Two walked away with his head bowed when she tried to accost him, and Fripon shook his head, saying, “Not now” before staring into space again.

As her growing frustration began to threaten to turn into aggression, she felt someone’s hand on her shoulder. Turning around, she saw Mudry’s eternally calm face. “Dottore has arrived, the ceremony is about to begin,” he explained.

Bianka waited for further revelations, but he didn’t speak again. “And what is happening now?” she inquired.

Mudry put his finger to his lips. “Not now, I have to listen. I will tell you everything later, as long as it is not confidential information.”

The blood boiled in her veins. Envy of the bond they shared gnawed at her like a predator. How could she not feel estranged and inferior when they communicated with each other without words while she could only stand aside? What child hasn’t once dreamt of the power of telepathy? To be able to contact each other at a distance, secretly pass on information, and even badmouth the people she didn’t like… Didn’t this vision sound tempting?

So far, however, she couldn’t perform any of these activities. Gnawing at her lip, she headed back to her workroom. Then she stopped, glancing at the segments. None of them paid the slightest attention to her. None of them were even working. So why go back to the test tubes and reagents so fast? Since they were allowed to eavesdrop and peep at the ceremony, she would do something else too. Like explore. The palace’s corridors seemed like a perfect place. It’s about time she showed up and started building her reputation, and she wouldn’t do that if she sat in the lab all day.

Leaving her apron in her workroom, she flitted like a shadow towards the passage to the antechamber with Kurage at her side. The small room was unnaturally quiet, the workbenches, tools, and machine parts looking strange when there was no one to breathe life into them… She shuddered, shaking her head to banish the disturbing thoughts. She opened the door and lifted her leg to leave the safe confines of the Doctor’s kingdom.

However, she didn’t step beyond the edge.

And that was because there was a monster standing on the other side of the metal door.

Bianka caught only a glimpse of its narrow eyes and muzzle twisted in a sinister grimace, showing powerful fangs before a terrible shriek escaped her throat. Without hesitation, she rushed back into the main hall.

“Demon! Monster! It’s attacking us!” she shouted, trying to bring the thoughtful segments back to the world of the living.

This got their attention. They all looked at her terrified face and then at the passage. The monstrosity had followed her and was now standing on the metal stairs. It moved on two legs like a human, a black, thick pelt covering its body. As soon as it got down to the floor, it shrugged off the snow that covered its shoulders and head.

Somewhere behind her, she heard a loud slap. Ayaz was shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe the scene he had witnessed. Mudry showed more restraint. He put his hand on Bianka’s shoulder and called out, “Welcome back, Seven.”

Seven?

Suddenly, the stranger raised his hands to his face and removed the monster’s muzzle, which turned out to be a mask. What she had previously taken for a pelt was indeed one, albeit transformed into a cloak. Bianka had heard that some Snezhnayan creatures trapped warmth with the help of their dark-coloured skin and thick fatty tissue. The covering must have been made from such an animal.

The newcomer discarded the hood, revealing straight turquoise hair that reached down to the small of his back and a weather-beaten face bearing the first traces of wrinkles. He surveyed the assembled people with ruby-red eyes. Focusing them on Bianka, he grinned, showing his sharp teeth, and walked closer, his earring swaying with each step. “So, this is the Bianka everyone is talking so much about!” His voice was so loud she had to resist plugging her ears. “And you thought you were being attacked by a monster?” He cackled. “Indeed, some people think we are devils that came from hell.”

The researcher shook herself off and eyed the new segment with a curious gaze. She had to admit, her reaction might have been a bit… overboard. Pushing the shame into the deepest recesses of her mind proved easier said than done.

Kurage poked his head out of the pocket, sniffing the air to pick up the newcomer’s scent. The pause made Bianka fully realize Seven’s words. “Everyone is talking about me?”

Seven nodded. “Indeedy! I haven’t gone a single day without hearing about you in our connection. You seem to come up in every conversation!”

“Keep quiet, Seven!” Ayaz scolded him, but it was too late.

Bianka furrowed her eyebrows, crossed her arms over her chest, and looked accusingly at the segments. “You mean you talk about me behind my back all the time?!”

“But only in superlatives,” Mudry assured.

“Or at least we try to,” Two added.

“Can you keep your voices down?” Fripon began to whine. “I can’t hear anything over your chatter.”

Apparently, his words reminded the segments of the ceremony because everyone immediately calmed down, sinking back into the bond.

Everyone except Seven.

“A bunch of eavesdroppers,” he giggled. “They would do nothing but gossip all day like women at the marketplace.”

Bianka smiled. She was beginning to like him. “Aren’t you interested in the funeral proceedings?

He shrugged. “What interesting could be happening there? The Harbingers are probably just going to indulge in their favourite pastime again – arguing and putting obstacles in each other’s way. Really, Bianka, you have nothing to regret; you would be terribly bored there.”

She looked at him in surprise. “How did you know I was curious about what was going on in the chapel?”

He winked at her. “I can see it in your eyes – the longing for companionship and the jealousy of connection. Do you feel lonely here?”

Bianka bulged her eyes, puzzled by this change of subject. She’d forgotten that the segments had inherited Dottore’s perceptiveness.

“…Sometimes,” she admitted. “There are times when I miss my old life and friends. Fortunately, there is usually so much going on here that I don’t have time to wallow in sadness.”

“And yet you don’t look happy now,” he remarked. “When I met you at the entrance, you were trying to sneak out, weren’t you?” Bianka wanted to defend herself somehow, but before she could open her mouth, the man chuckled under his breath. “Your Doctor disappears for a day, and you start to get bored, eh?”

Bianka cringed. “M-My Doctor? Why did you call him that? He’s not ‘mine.’ Hey, stop laughing at me! Stop.”

No amount of shouting or pleading could stop Seven who was already guffawing at full volume. The only thing she was dreaming about at the moment was to sink into the ground for the next hundred years.

“Be quiet!” Fripon continued to jaw.

“Hey,” Seven said, finally calming down. “Since you’re bored…” His voice dropped to a whisper. “How about we find something else to do? We could do a little workout? I’ve always preferred physical exercise to playing with test tubes.”

Bianka shot him a suspicious look. The segment tilted his head as if to ask, ‘Do you have a better idea?’ and she hesitated. Would exercise help her get rid of her negative emotions?

“Fine,” she said.

Seven smiled and patted her on the back. “That’s my girl! No more procrastinating; let’s go and kick some dummy’s rump.”

Beaming with content, Seven headed for the exit with energy in his steps. It was then that Bianka began to have misgivings about this idea. What did Dottore tell her about this segment? His job mainly consisted of field missions and acquiring new test subjects. Such a task could only be undertaken by someone highly trained and extremely dangerous. She swallowed. This would either be the best training of her life or a total disaster that she would remember for the rest of her days.

A quiet squeak caught her attention. She lowered her gaze and looked at Kurage who had caught a piece of her blouse in his teeth and was dragging it in the opposite direction to the exit.

She stroked his head with her finger. “Relax, little one, I’ll be fine. I’m sure it’ll be the first option.”

****

Lamentably, all signs in heaven and on earth pointed to total disaster.

Seven, back in his mask and cloak, led her into the arena. As they walked down the corridor, everyone who possessed at least one brain cell moved out of his way. On their faces, Bianka saw a wide range of emotions: astonishment, fear, consternation… She understood them perfectly – how were they supposed to behave when an almost two-metre-high monster was walking through the palace paths like it owned the place?

The segment decided that since she had been training for several weeks, she was ready to learn fighting with her knives. Bianka herself wasn’t convinced – she preferred to get the hang of the basic moves and hand-to-hand combat first before taking up cold steel, but Seven wouldn’t listen. He pressed the simple knives he had conjured out of nowhere into her hands and told her to attack the dummy. Since she had only held the blades twice so far and hadn’t even managed to get her grip right, her charge caused more damage to herself than to the mannequin. However, Seven wasn’t concerned about this minor failure. He helped her stand on her feet again, showed her exactly where to strike, and stood back, waiting for her to move. This time, she managed to launch an attack, but her blow was too weak – on contact with the dummy’s torso, the knife slipped from her hand and fell to the ground.

“You need more pizzazz,” the segment said. “Imagine you’re facing an enemy whose only aim is to rip your guts out. You don’t think about whether you should hide, run away, or attack; you just pick up a knife and fight. Like this!”

Seven grabbed the blade that was lying on the ground, stood with his legs apart, and thrust. The force of his blow was so great that the knife plunged into the dummy together with the handle and his hand.

Bianka lifted her mask slightly and rubbed her eyes to make sure what she saw was real. Then, feeling less safe than just a minute ago, she took a few steps away to maintain any semblance of distance.

She cleared her throat. “Listen, maybe it would be better to work on my physical fitness a bit more? I don’t think I could muster enough strength to run that dummy through.”

Seven scanned her from head to toe. “…Yes, you may be right,” he said, nodding thoughtfully. “Alright, we’ll get on with the usual exercises then.”

Bianka let out the breath she was holding. She might not learn anything new today, but at least her stagnant muscles would get some exercise.

Unfortunately, her contentment was short-lived yet again. Apparently, Seven has given himself a mission to make her emotionally unstable, given his teaching techniques. For some reason, he felt that in order for her to do a particular exercise well, he had to yell at her all the time. Not… unencouraging things. But morale boosters that made her want to explode from embarrassment. Bianka trotted around the arena, hearing behind her, “Yeah, move those buttocks, just like that!” When she performed squats, there would be, “And one, and two! Oh yes, we’ll show them!” and when she lifted weights, Seven would yell in her ear, “Show it, Bianka! That barbell has no chance with you!” His roars were so loud that more and more people began to look in their direction.

Finally, after fifty minutes of what felt like a whole eon, Seven ordered a break. They both headed towards the bench where Bianka had left her coat earlier. With a sigh of relief, she plopped down on the wood and took a big drag of water. Kurage, who had remained in incognito mode so far poked his head out of her pocket, looking at her curiously. Bianka took a Petri dish out of her other pocket, poured some of the water into it, and set it in front of him. Kurage didn’t hesitate with accepting the gift. Having sipped it a few times, he scooped up a few drops with his paws and splashed his head.

“That mouse of yours is quite an enigma,” the segment remarked, sitting down. Kurage shot him a look in between sips. “His eyes are intelligent, and that’s not easy to spot in this species. He was lucky you took him under your care before Fripon or Ayaz got him. Otherwise, there wouldn’t have been much left of him.”

Bianka hummed, scratching Kurage’s neck. He still didn’t take his gaze off the Harbinger. “I thought Fripon doesn’t help with experiments or do his own research. Ayaz, on the other hand, deals with people rather than animals, doesn’t he?”

“You know how Fripon is. One minute, he’s pretending to be an angel, and the next, half of the laboratory looks like it has been visited by a furious lawachurl. If the idea of ‘playing’ with Kurage had occurred to him earlier, you would probably never have met him. And as for Ayaz, humans are indeed his specialty, but he has worked on other species before – animals, hilichurls, and Abyss monsters.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and sent her a friendly smile. “By the way, nice names you came up with for them; they fit like a glove.”

Bianka avoided eye contact, basking in the praise. “What about you?” she asked to change the topic. “What tasks have you been assigned? The others have mentioned them a little, but I don’t know the details.”

“My missions are mainly in the field. I rarely return to the palace, sometimes spending weeks or even months in the Snezhnayan wilderness. My job can be reduced to taking care of activities that require frequent travel. This gives Dottore more time for experiments and research. As for specific tasks… they’re manifold. Killing monsters plaguing the common people, finding and arresting dangerous bandits, sabotaging enemy activities… I could go on and on.” He fell silent for a moment, flinching as if remembering something. “And, of course, acquiring new research subjects for Master.”

A shiver ran down Bianka’s spine. In front of her eyes stood the dark dungeons and the cell doors imprisoning the Doctor’s patients.

“What does it look like to ‘acquire research subjects?’” she asked despite her repulsion. “Do you just abduct people from their homes, or is there more of a technique involved?”

“Of course I don’t kidnap ordinary Snezhnayans! Her Majesty would never agree to that; they are her subjects, after all. No, most of the individuals I bring with me are criminals. Gang members. Robbers. Dealers. I simply pick out a few, then separate and catch them. Master’s conviction is that there is no point in wasting healthy, functioning organisms to rot in cells or hang on the scaffold. Instead, he uses them for research so that they can still be of service to their country before they die.”

Bianka looked away. Few sentences were worse than death, and being promoted as the Doctor’s guinea pig could certainly seek that title.

Seven let out a eureka cry, startling Bianka. He leaned towards her. “I know what you need.”

Bianka expressed suspicion with her whole body. His tone was that of an omniscient sage. “What do you have in mind?”

“You see, when we were practising before, I had an inkling feeling that you didn’t share my enthusiasm…”

Bianka straightened up; her muscles tensed, sensing something nasty.

Seven patted her reassuringly on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’m not holding a grudge. In fact, it made me realise that the other tactic wasn’t one of the best either. And then it dawned on me. You just lack…” he leaned even more “…motivation.”

Bianka glanced sideways for a second, then returned her gaze to the Harbinger. “I don’t think I understand. I didn’t feel I was training with less enthusiasm than usual.”

“True, you are dutiful, and you obey instructions, but that’s not the point. Now I understand that the previous two ways didn’t bring you joy.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Bianka nodded. “Maybe I was really treating our exercises as a task to be done…”

“Precisely!” Seven exclaimed. “But you don’t have to worry anymore because I have come up with a great idea. How about a little spar?”

A similar situation has happened before. Lord Tartaglia also tried to persuade her to a friendly skirmish.

“Who would I fight?” Bianka asked slowly.

Seven let out a short laugh. “Avec moi, of course!” He pointed at himself as if he were presenting luxury goods.

Bianka eyed him from head to toe, paying particular attention to his frame and broad shoulders. “Well, I don’t know…” She squirmed. “You’re much stronger than me. I fear it’s going to be a fast ride…”

Any normal person would still have difficulty finding any semblance of enthusiasm in her voice. Not Seven. “Nonsense! If you don’t try it, you won’t know.” In one smooth motion, he rose from the bench and gave her his hand. “Enough of this dawdling. Come on, let’s move these old bones.”

Bianka still didn’t feel entirely convinced by the idea, but Seven left her no time for overthinking. Hesitating, she accepted his hand. They walked to the edge of the arena where it was relatively quiet and faced each other, preparing for battle. Bianka was about to propose they set rules, but Seven instructed her to remove her knives from the sheaths before she could.

‘And that would be it in terms of safety rules,’ she thought, following the order. The blades rasped on contact with the leather. Bianka assumed a fighting stance, awaiting her rival’s move.

“Excellent, now it’s my turn!”

The researcher’s eyes gradually increased in diameter as she watched the segment’s metamorphosis. With the terrifying mask hiding his face, Seven discarded his cloak and moved his shoulders. Only now did she realise how well-built he was. Beneath the short black jacket, she could see the powerful muscles of his arms and chest. His physique brought to mind a seasoned combatant rather than a bright, logically thinking scientist.

And then the Harbinger summoned his weapon.

Bianka’s legs buckled underneath her. After a brief flash of light, a war hammer with a head resembling a giant steel brick appeared in his hands. Seven grasped the weapon with a lightness completely disproportionate to its weight and stood on bent legs. Finally, he shook his admirable mane like an enraged lion, a movement she found so frightening that she almost let the knives out of her hands.

“Are you ready?” he shouted in her direction.

‘Of course not!’ she wanted to snap, but her voice caught in her throat.

“Great, then let’s begin!”

As soon as he started heading towards her, Bianka did the only thing any mentally healthy person would do in the face of a giant man with a war hammer assaulting them – she turned and started running.

“Stop running, Bianka!” She rushed along the walls of the arena, lunging between other horrified soldiers and training dummies, but she couldn’t shake him. “Face me like a true warrior! I promise I won’t do you any permanent damage.”

Bianka didn’t listen. She already knew Seven’s flaw – chaos erupted wherever he set foot. Not to mention that he did things before thinking them through. If he had been calmer and patiently guided her movements while she was learning fighting techniques, maybe now she wouldn’t have to run as fast to save her life.

After a bunch of zigzags, screams of fear, and clashes of weapons, she hid under the bench where she had left Kurage and her coat. Squeezing herself into the darkest spot, she watched Seven from the corner of her eye, who was walking around the arena and shouting her name. She wouldn’t answer his yells no matter what.

Panting, she looked around, wondering how to get out of this stalemate. Then, a miracle. In the entrance to the arena was standing (or rather hiding, leaning out only his head) Two. He had abandoned the attire of the Akademiya student in favour of a jacket and trousers of a simple Fatui soldier. He did, however, don his dark blue mask, which covered his right eye, upper cheek, and temple. He scanned the soldiers, hiding every time Seven turned in his direction. Finally, Bianka managed to get his attention by surreptitiously waving her hand.

Two perked up. He pointed a finger at himself, then at Seven, at her, and finally at the exit. She nodded her head. The segment took a deep breath, ran his fingers through his hair, and walked confidently towards Seven. While they talked, Bianka crawled out from under the bench, grabbed her cloak, tucked Kurage into it, and, moving along the wall, ran out of the arena.

It was only when she found herself in the main hall that she felt safe enough to stop. Gasping, she bent down and rested her hands on her knees to regulate her breathing. After a minute or so, Two rushed out of the hallway, equally animated.

Bianka laughed, feeling the tension escaping her body. “You don’t even know how happy I am to see you,” she stammered out, smiling at Two, who cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck, his cheeks darkening. “What made you come looking for me? Did you know that this,” she waved her hand towards the arena, “could have happened?”

His face contorting in shyness, Two shrugged. “I’ve known Seven for a long time now, and I know he can be quite… overwhelming. The first time is always the worst, and I thought you could use a helping hand.”

“What did you tell him? Won’t he start looking for us here?”

He shook his head. “I said I saw you run out of the arena through the gate leading outside. He’ll walk all around the palace now. I know from experience that it’ll take him several hours.”

Bianka couldn’t hold back the giggle that was forcing itself onto her lips, and after a while, she was laughing herself silly. Without thinking, she stepped closer and locked Two in a hug. He stiffened but, much to Bianka’s delight, didn’t move away.

“Thank you. I don’t know what I would have done without your help,” she murmured into his neck. Looking at him again, she noticed that his face had changed colour again. She giggled. “Be careful, Two. Someone might think we’re doing a not-so-virtuous acti—”

“Are my eyes deceiving me?! If I wasn’t from Sumeru, I’d think I was dreaming!”

Bianka froze. Her heart beat harder, her breathing stopping abruptly. She knew that voice, oh, how well she knew it! Moving away from Two, she turned her head towards the stairs leading to the upper floors.

And then she saw him. Standing on the mezzanine floor and grinning was Eymen – her oldest and closest friend.

****

Bianka blinked once, then twice. Despite her fear, Eymen didn’t evaporate and stood firm, grinning like a madman. Finally, a beautiful, sincere smile bloomed on her face too. She burst into pearly laughter and ran towards the stairs, throwing herself around her friend’s neck with a joyful shout. He locked her in a hug and spun her around.

“Eymen!” she exclaimed, her voice breathy with emotion. “What…? But how?!”

“Surprised?” he laughed, setting her on the ground. He didn’t let go of her hands, however. “I missed you and thought I’d look for you. And besides, I couldn’t leave you alone in the Doctor’s clutches.”

Bianka patted him on the shoulder with feigned indignation. “Don’t try to tell a whopper! You couldn’t leave the institute and barge into the palace just like that.” She looked at him from head to toe. “From your outfit, I’m guessing you’re no longer a grey scientist.”

Eymen did indeed look much more dignified in his new mask and the cloak of a palace soldier. The small insignia sewn on his left breast depicting a raven’s head left no doubt as to the man’s superior.

He nodded. “You are not mistaken. In fact, I ended up here because I impressed our good old boss, who decided to promote me. I couldn’t pass up such an opportunity.” He leaned closer. “Do you have a moment? We could go to my place and talk away from prying ears.”

Bianka let out an eager hum. “Sure! I’ll just tell Two where…” She turned around and fell silent. There was not a trace of the young segment. She furrowed her eyebrows. “Where is…?”

“Are you talking about that boy? I think he left when you ran up to me.” He tilted his head. “Is he a friend of yours?”

She hesitated. Something told her she shouldn’t mention copies of the Doctor to her friend. Finally, she nodded. “Yes, we work together in Dottore’s lab. He’s very shy, that’s probably why he ran away.” She glanced back at Eymen and smiled. “Lead the way; I’d love to find out how you live.”

Eymen shot her a jaunty smile and, squeezing her hand, pulled her down the stairs and into the corridor opposite the one that led to the laboratory. He steered her through a maze of underground passageways, nooks and crannies, eventually halting at a lowkey door. Having put his hand to the panel, it opened with a quiet hiss.

Eymen bowed and pointed at the passage with his hand. “Ladies first.”

Bianka giggled. “How nice that there are still gentlemen like you traversing this world.” The room was smaller than her own but large enough to feel comfortable in. Besides a table against the wall and a wardrobe, there was also space for two beds. Because of its location, it had no windows. Nevertheless, the red flames crackling in the fireplace and the warm colours gave it a cosy feel.

Eymen stepped in and closed the door. “The other bed belongs to my roommate, but don’t worry, he’s on a mission right now, so no one will pay us an unexpected visit.” He pulled one of the chairs standing by the desk. “Please, sit down. I’ll get us something to drink.”

Bianka blushed but accepted the invitation. Her friend disappeared into an adjoining room, returning a few minutes later with a tray containing two steaming mugs of tea and a plate of biscuits. “Help yourself.”

She took off her mask and happily munched on one. Smelling the sweetness, Kurage made his presence known and moved towards them without hesitation. Eymen startled, then stroked the animal’s back and got rid of his own mask, allowing Bianka to see his face after more than three months of separation.

Emotion grabbed her heart, coaxing her to smile. “Oh, Eymen, you don’t even know how happy I am to see you. Sometimes, I thought I would never see you again.”

The man smiled gently, sparks of joy flashing in his eyes. “I would go mad if I never saw you again. Praise be to Her Majesty for letting us find each other. But enough about that; tell me how you fared. I must admit that your new clothes are making me a bit envious,” he joked.

Bianka snorted in embarrassment and shook her head. “I don’t know if I’ll have enough time to recount even half of what happened during these months.”

“Maybe start with the Doctor himself, then. What is he like? Are the rumours about him true? Have you seen him often?”

“Every day,” she replied. “I work with him in his lab; he’s even appointed me as his right hand.” She giggled when Eymen whistled in admiration. “What is he like…? Whimsical, that’s for sure, but also extremely intelligent and knowledgeable about the subjects that interest him.” She paused for a moment, grinning. “Besides, he grumbles like a bitter old man and snores so loudly that the trees shake.”

Eymen chuckled and took a sip of his tea. “You have to tell me more. What are your days like? Has your curiosity taken you to any interesting places?”

And so Bianka told him about her experiences so far – the day they reached Siniy Glaz, the raft, the town, its inhabitants, the battle, the ominous Beast and many other adventures.

Being in the company of her friend, time became an irrelevant and unnecessary thing. Before she knew it, the plate of biscuits was already empty and a second mug of tea was in her hands. When she had finally finished recounting the highlights of the last three months of her life, she hung her gaze on Eymen.

He sent her an inquisitive look adorned with a slight smile. “You’ve changed.” Bianka raised her eyebrows. “You sit upright, speak with calmness and your gaze is hardy. I’m not saying that you didn’t have these qualities before, but now you seem… more confident.”

Bianka blinked. She hadn’t paid attention to it before, but… “Life with Lord Dottore is not the easiest. Sometimes, I have had to fight for my own and make my opinions clear, otherwise I would’ve been stifled by him. It may not look like it, but he needs someone strong who has the courage to stand up to him. I don’t always succeed, but I do my best. That’s why I needed to get stronger.”

Eymen nodded, his face serious. “You know, Bianka, your sudden departure must have been a big shock, but, looking at you now, I think it was a good change. The Main Research Institute is one of the most advanced scientific centres in Teyvat, but only by the side of someone like Lord Dottore could you fully spread your wings, both in terms of your scientific research and your physical and mental strength."

Bianka hesitated, lowering her gaze and staring into the swirling liquid in her mug. She regretted that the Second Harbinger was so difficult to establish a healthy, collegial relationship with, but somewhere in the recesses of her mind flicked the saying that the greatest weapons had to be immersed in fire first.

“Perhaps you are right…” she finally said. Their gazes crossed again. “And how are Wilhelm, Tatiana, and Kiang? Are they holding up well?”

She froze when the corners of Eymen’s mouth dropped. He sighed as if great fatigue fell upon him all at once. “Unfortunately, things are no longer as they used to be. I believe that your departure was the catalyst for further changes. Not long after you left with the Doctor, Wilhelm was sent on a mission to Fontaine. Tatiana took it hard; you know how close they were. A month later, I was promoted. I don’t know how the fate of our friends went on, but you can see for yourself that our team fell apart.”

Her heart stung painfully upon hearing these unfortunate revelations. Their lab was best known for its cordiality, and the bond they had managed to create was unique. It was a tragedy that it had to end this way.

Eymen, as usual, espied her sadness. “Hey, don’t lose hope. I know such changes are difficult to accept, but sometimes, the end of one thing becomes the beginning of something equally or even more fascinating.” He grabbed her hand and massaged the back of it with his thumb. “Maybe Wilhelm and Tatiana’s separation will allow them to open up to new friendships, just as our separation allowed you to grow wonderfully. And Kiang will finally manage to get some of her spirit back if she doesn’t have to watch over our dear pranksters every day.”

Bianka shot him a small smile, blinking back tears of emotion. Her dearest friend always knew what to say to lift her spirits. How could she convey to him how much his words meant to her?

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

Alarmed, Eymen raised his head, ordering her to keep quiet. They waited a moment, hoping the intruder would go away, but the knocking resounded again, this time with more urgency. Eymen gestured for her to hide in an adjoining room while he spoke to the mysterious visitor. She gave him a curt nod and rushed into the small kitchen, taking her mask with her. She left the door slightly ajar to observe the conversation.

“Yes? How can I help you?” Eymen said cautiously.

“I-Is Bianka still with y-you?” Bianka’s eyes widened. “She needs to get back to the lab; t-this is very important.”

“Two?” she called out, walking out into the main room. The segment had donned his hood again to hide his identity. “What’s going on? Is Seven back?”

The tension eased from his shoulders. “Yes, but that’s not the point. It’s about the others. They started arguing.”

Bianka raised her eyebrows. “Arguing? What’s wrong with that? They argue all the time.”

“It’s worse this time,” he insisted. “This squabble broke out over you, and Ayaz and Seven are shouting at each other.”

Bianka let out a heavy sigh, squeezing the bridge of her nose. ‘And this is what happens when children are left alone.’

Eymen shot her a questioning look.

“Excuse me, Eymen,” Bianka finally said. “I need to check on this. In Dottore’s absence, the others get restless, and I am the only person who manages to dial down their emotions.”

Eymen nodded and smiled with understanding. “No problem. Thank you for our conversation. Will we meet again?”

“Of course! Will you be at the banquet tomorrow?”

“Yes, I was surprised to receive an invitation.”

“In that case, I’ll see you there.”

After hugging him, she left the room together with Two. When the door closed behind them, the segment sent her a questioning look. Bianka bit her lower lip, wondering how much she should say. “He’s an old friend of mine, from back when I worked at the Main Research Institute.” She hesitated. “Can I trust you not to tell the others about him? Eymen is a loyal Fatuus, he’s not a threat to anyone, and I’m afraid the Doctor wouldn’t approve of our meetings.”

Two glanced at her, saying nothing. She could see two voices fighting within him – one commanding him to be loyal to his Master and “brothers” and the other to Bianka, who had shown him more kindness and patience.

She sent him a pleading look. Finally, Two groaned and lowered his gaze. “Well, if you trust this scientist, I will keep what I saw to myself.”

“Thank you,” she said, squeezing his arm. “It means a lot to me.”

Two quickly looked away.

Bianka smiled. “Let’s go and see what all the fuss is about.”

As they ran together towards the atrium, she realised that it was already dusk outside. But such observations were instantly abandoned the moment she could hear screams.  Suddenly, the desire to join the argument in which both sides were represented by clones of the most gruff and stubborn man she had ever the (dis)pleasure of meeting plummeted like an anchor into the water. Archons, they were still a few metres from the heavy metal door to the Second Harbinger’s complex; how loud would they be inside?

Two sensed her indecision and this time it was he who sent her a beseeching gaze. Bianka snorted with amusement and pressed her hand against the panel. As soon as the door stopped blocking the passage, the sound of bickering men intensified at least three times.

As she ran into the main hall, she quickly assessed the situation. Not far from the workbenches stood the instigators, yelling at each other and threatening with their fists. Mudry sat nearby, watching the spectacle with a look that clearly communicated he was fed up with such a life and was dreaming of a few hours of sleep. Good, one less thing to worry about because the last segment, Fripon, was hiding behind the table, throwing empty test tubes and instruments at the quarrelling ones to add fuel to the fire.

Bianka strode up to him, grabbed the newly made ranged weapons from his hands, then pushed him straight into Two’s arms. “Watch him,” she ordered. Without waiting for an answer, she marched over to Seven, who had grabbed Ayaz’s waistcoat and was shaking him like a doll, and shoved herself between them. “What kind of behaviour is this?! This is how you represent Her Majesty?!”

“Hey, watch your tone!” Ayaz spat. “Have you forgotten your place, assistant?”

“Right hand of the Second Harbinger!” she corrected him. “And I know where my place is: at the Doctor’s side. Do you remember where your place is, segment?”

Ayaz stepped back, his surprise quickly turning into a grimace of hatred.

“Don’t be angry with Ayaz,” Murdy said softly, placing his hand on Bianka’s shoulder. “You know it’s hard to really upset him. It was Seven who came here and started shouting.”

Seven made a remorseful face as she shifted her gaze to him. “Why did you behave like that?” she demanded. She didn’t like having to shout, but clearly that was the only thing that was going to work. “It’s your first day back at the lab, and you’ve almost caused a fight already?”

“I’m sorry, Bianka,” he muttered, looking ashamed. “I did indeed get a little carried away.”

“Don’t apologise to her; apologise to me!” Ayaz growled. “It was because of her that this argument broke out in the first place!”

Bianka took a slow, calming breath to keep from pouncing at Ayaz with unsheathed claws.

Unfortunately, Seven’s restraint was not as great as hers. “It’s not fair; she can’t be blamed for that! If you had been more—!”

“Hey, you’re starting again?!” she warned him. Seven immediately fell silent. She turned back to the other segments. “What exactly was that about?”

“The fact that we supposedly don’t take enough care of you, and that’s why you’re feeling unwelcome here,” Ayaz snarled.

Bianka furrowed her eyebrows. “What is that—?”

“Perhaps you’ll let me explain,” Mudry interjected. “A few hours after Seven took you for training, he came back here alone, claiming he couldn’t find you. Neither of us were too concerned about this, and furthermore, Ayaz threw in a few unfavourable words; something that he couldn’t keep an eye on you, so it was his problem. Seven then went to your room, thinking that you had come back to rest, but you weren’t there either. So he started worrying that you had disappeared for good and accused us of this situation, stating that it was because of our negative attitude towards you that you ran away and we would all have a big problem if Master found out. The argument began to escalate until we found ourselves where we currently are.”

Bianka tried not to cringe. ‘Maybe meeting Eymen without telling anyone wasn’t such a good idea after all,’ she thought, embarrassed.

“In that case, I also owe you an apology,” she said. “I left the arena for a while to rest, but then I was asked by the Doctor’s subordinates for help with an unimportant issue. There was no segment nearby at the time, so I had to deal with it myself.” Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Two. He stiffened for a split second but didn’t interject. Bianka felt immense gratitude. “However, you weren’t on your best behaviour either, Seven. Where did you even get the idea that I could escape? I have a tracking device implanted in my neck; Dottore would know immediately where to look for me.” The segment looked away. Bianka, however, wasn’t finished yet. “Anyway, I told you this morning that I don’t feel bad here; I come to work, I do my job, I talk with someone if I have the chance, and then I relax in my room. I don’t expect us to get along great and go on outings together like old comrades. We are here to carry Her Majesty’s will, and that is our highest goal.”

The segments looked at each other as if they were having a secret conversation. Bianka had a strong feeling, however, that a special bond wasn’t necessary for them at that moment.

Two let go of Fripon’s arm and approached her. “You are stronger than I thought if you really think so,” he muttered shyly before lowering his voice even more so that she had to strain her ears to hear him. “Well, even if you don’t need it, I would be happy to listen to you if you ever wanted to talk.”

Bianka blinked, profoundly surprised by his words. “That’s kind, Two,” she said, a pleasant warmth spreading through her body.

Ayaz scoffed. “Sure, make her a damsel in distress so you can be her knight in shining armour.”

Seven glared. “You always have to have the last—”

She had to remedy this quickly, or they would find themselves back at square one.

And then, she came up with a perfect solution. She looked at Two, her eyes expressing nothing but kindness. “I must admit, I am moved by your words.” The poor boy looked as if he was about to lose consciousness, embarrassment making his legs buckle. “When I arrived here a few weeks ago, you were afraid to be in my company, but now you have offered me your support. This must have been a big step for you, and these should be celebrated accordingly.”

The segment’s eyes grew as big as saucers as he realised what was about to happen. The others gathered closer to carefully watch the ceremony.

Bianka stood in front of him and placed her hands on his shoulders. “Two, despite your shyness, in your chest beats a kind heart. For your care and loyalty to those you call your friends, from today onwards, we will call you Erva. Do you agree on this name?”

Erva stared at her in complete shock. He opened his mouth but was so surprised that not a single word left it. Finally, he just nodded his head vigorously.

“Erva! Erva!” Fripon chanted, jumping from excitement. After a while, the others, even a surly and unenthusiastic Ayaz, joined in, celebrating the new name of their fellow segment. Bianka knew Erva didn’t like to be the centre of attention, but she hoped he would make an exception for this special occasion.

“Erva!”

Bianka shuddered, hearing the timbre of the voice she knew so well. She turned her head to see a slowly clapping Dottore, still wearing the Harbinger’s cloak but already without the mask.

“I see our local priestess doesn’t loll about,” he continued. “Good, half behind us.”

She giggled and approached him. “Welcome back, Dottore,” she said, closing him in a hug. The Doctor stiffened, clearly unprepared for such a reaction. But after a few seconds, he snapped out of stupor and, snorting with laughter, stroked her back. A smile bloomed on her face – she couldn’t ignore her happiness at his return.

Bringing her lips close to his ear (or at least as close as possible, given the difference in height), she whispered, “I beg you to never leave me in Seven’s hands again. I wouldn’t survive another training session with him.”

She sensed more than heard the laughter vibrating from his chest.

"Seven,” he turned to the segment who raised his head. “Bianka says she really enjoyed your training together. She’s eager for more."

Bianka changed her mind – Dottore could’ve stayed in the chapel for several days more. She hoped Fripon eats all his sweets. But… at least a smile had returned to Seven’s face.

“No problem, Bianka, whenever you want!” he assured her. She forced herself to reciprocate his smile to not hurt his feelings.

“It’s getting late; we won’t be doing any more work today,” Dottore ordered. “Come on, I’ll walk you to the door.”

Having said goodbye to the segments, she set off with the Harbinger. Just as she was about to walk away from him, however, a squeak echoed from her pocket. Kurage climbed onto her shoulder, leapt onto Dottore’s coat, and crouched in the bend of his neck.

Dottore stopped dead in his tracks, an expression of exasperation in his eyes. “If he pees on me, you’ll be washing the coat.”

A violent giggle ripped from Bianka’s throat. She grabbed Kurage (who didn’t fail to express his displeasure with a loud peep) and handed him to still burning with emotions Erva.

When they were finally alone, he said, “You handled them well.”

Bianka was taken aback, sending a questioning glance in his direction. Dottore didn’t reply, his gaze hiding some strange mischief. Suddenly, she understood.

“You were here from the very beginning? And it didn’t occur to you to intervene?”

“Not from the very beginning,” he corrected, “but I saw enough. And I didn’t need to intervene; you managed perfectly well on your own.”

A smug smile appeared on her face. “Do you really think so?”

“Of course. Such arguments happen often, but you have shown today that they are not an obstacle for you. Your attitude has earned you their respect, I can tell.”

Bianka puffed out her chest, her stride springy. The Doctor looked at her surreptitiously; had she not been so immersed in the flattery, she would have sensed from him a feeling suspiciously close to admiration.

He smiled and shook his head. “What is your secret, Bilmece?” he muttered under his breath.

At last, they reached the main door. Dottore put his hand on her shoulder. “Try to get some sleep tonight. Tomorrow evening, we will attend a banquet where all the Harbingers, as well as the Tsaritsa herself, will be present. We must perform well.”

Bianka squeezed his hand tightly. “Don’t worry, Dottore.” She sent him a reassuring smile. “I have a good feeling about tomorrow.”

Chapter Text

In the morning, her good feelings had dissipated completely.

Shortly after waking up, the importance of the evening’s event hit her in full force. At the banquet, in addition to all the captains, generals and other high-ranking soldiers, the Harbingers, as well as Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa herself, would be present. And in the midst of all these personalities: she, Bianka Snezhevna, an orphan who spent the last three months of her life in the mountainous wilderness. The biggest party she had ever experienced was Wilhelm’s birthday.

‘Oh no, this is going to be a disaster!’ she thought.

Despite the fear that hunted her down without any warning, she managed to crawl to the laboratory. Having thrown Erva, Seven, and Dottore a quick hello, she headed for her workroom, where Kurage squeaked in greeting. She tried to occupy her thoughts with polishing the poisons she had recently created, but when she messed up the reagents for the third time, she decided that all her work was pointless and headed for Mudry’s study.

She rushed in without knocking, sitting down in the vacant chair and resting her elbows on the tabletop to hide her face in her hands. Mudry watched her with mute amazement, sipping his morning coffee. Setting the mug down, he grabbed a clean glass from the shelf above the desk, poured water into it from the siphon standing on the countertop, and placed it in front of her. Bianka watched his actions through the gap between her fingers. She had already noticed that Mudry’s office was set up so that he had to get up from his desk as seldom as possible. Having whispered words of gratitude, she accepted the cup and took a few sips.

The segment tilted his head. “Is this about tonight’s banquet?”

Bianka groaned with despair. “Oh, Mudry, I can’t go there tonight! I’m sure I’ll make a fool of myself!”

“Why do you think so?” he asked, his voice gentle.

“I can’t tell the difference between a salad fork and a regular one!” she began.

“There’ll only be one fork, as well as a knife and a spoon.”

“I have no idea who I’ll be sitting with. What if I say something stupid?”

“If you don’t trust your own words, you can stay silent.”

“But every Harbinger will be there, Mudry. Every single one of the Eleven Harbingers!” she pointed out.

“You’ve already met seven of them. Only two left.”

Mudry was right. Apart from Lady Signora, whom she would never have the chance to meet again, and the fugitive Lord Scaramouche, she had yet to meet only Lady Columbina, who held the position of the Third Harbinger, and Lord Pierro, the head of the entire organisation and the first Fatuus in history. Just thinking about them made shivers run down her spine.

“I’ve never been to any banquet,” she continued. “I don’t even know how I should behave!”

“Banquets are not a complicated event. You’ll enter the room with Dottore, take your seat, have a nice meal, and leave. Simple, no?”

“Then why are the Fatui’s banquets said to be ‘frenzied’?”

Mudry snorted with amusement, not caring about the venom in her voice. “It’s because of a special ritual, but don’t worry, you don’t have to take part in it. On the contrary, I would advise you against possible participation.”

Bianka furrowed her eyebrows. “A special ritu—"

A knock on the door resounded in the room. Seconds later, Ayaz stuck his head into the study. “You have the papers?”

His tone couldn’t be more bored.

Mudry swept the desk, spotting them on a cabinet not far from Five’s capsule. He stretched his arm as far as he could but still wasn’t able to grab them. When he turned back to Bianka and looked at her expectantly, she squirmed. Normally, his behaviour might have amused her. But not now while she had a horrible feeling that everything around her was crumbling.

“Mudry, you can’t be that lazy!” she shouted.

Mudry glanced at the papers lying sadly on the cupboard, then shifted his gaze to Bianka and sent her a pleading look. Sighing, she stood up, grabbed the bundle, and handed it to Ayaz, who murmured in gratitude and left, closing the door behind him.

Bianka paced around the room, trying to somehow curb the emotions that were slowly turning her into a mush. Unfortunately, it didn’t have the desired effect. Letting out an angry growl, she banged her head against the tank. Five smiled, content with her presence. His skin was beginning to darken, the minute blood vessels disappearing under a layer of melanin.

At once, she envied his existence. “Why can’t I be the one to drift so peacefully, unconcerned with the outside world?”

Mudry snorted again. “Your nine-month holiday ended a long time ago. Now it’s time to face adversity and guarantee yourself a good position in the hierarchy of our organisation.”

Bianka groaned again and moved away from the capsule. The segment took a thick bundle of papers from a drawer and placed them on the counter.

“Come here, I’ll try to occupy your thoughts with something.”

Bianka shuffled forward.

“These are files of various patients. They need to be arranged in alphabetical order and sorted into the correct envelopes.”

Bianka nervously eyed the papers. Their thickness was comparable to some of Dottore’s encyclopaedias. “That’s a lot of work. It’ll probably take several hours…”

“All the better,” he replied with a smile. “You won’t have time to think about issues beyond your control.”

****

Two hours later, they heard knocking on the door for the second time.

“There you are,” Dottore said, turning to Bianka. “That’s enough working for today. Go back to your room and get ready for the banquet.”

“What?!” She sprang up from the chair. “It’s only three o’clock, and the banquet starts at seven. What am I supposed to do for so many hours?”

The Doctor’s face took on a stern expression. “You have to wash yourself, because, so far, all I can smell from you is oil and ethanol, and get your clothes ready. Moreover, a hairdresser will come to you and try to get your hair under control.” Bianka dared to say that Dottore was the one who needed urgent cosmetic intervention, not her. “And don’t forget we have to be there half an hour earlier; Tsaritsa’s order.”

At the mention of Her Majesty, all anxiety returned with redoubled force.

“Dottore, I’ve changed my mind, I’m not going.”

The Harbinger’s chest vibrated in a warning growl. In two swift steps, he reached her, grabbed the scruff of her neck, and lifted her out of the chair like a disobedient cat. “I don’t want to hear about it! You’re going to the banquet, period. How would it look if my right hand didn’t show up at such an important ceremony?”

“But Dottore,” she complained after he dropped her, “I’ve never been to such an event. What if they seat me next to the aristocrats? I would stick out like a sore thumb!”

Dottore started dragging her towards the exit. “Nonsense, you won’t be sitting next to any aristocrats; you’ll be sitting with the other Little Harbingers.”

This effectively shut her mouth. She allowed herself to be led out of Mudry’s room. “Who are the Little Harbingers? I’ve never heard that name before.”

“Interesting, especially considering you are one yourself.” He smirked. “‘The Little Harbingers’ is a colloquial name for the closest subordinates of the fully fledged Harbingers. Like you, they represent them in their absence. Not every Harbinger has a deputy; there are currently six of them. Your table is close to ours not only to emphasise your position but also to indicate that you have the best chance of sitting by the Tsaritsa’s side one day.”

Bianka’s eyes lit up. “Can I really become a Harbinger one day?”

Dottore snorted. “Hola, not so fast! You barely know how to hold your knives and have a hankering for such a lofty position already? Even if your candidacy is ever considered, it’ll still be a very long time.” The Doctor patted her on the back, solidifying her now-cooled enthusiasm. “Whatever the reason for the table being so close to ours, I’ll be able to keep an eye on you. You’ll also have a chance to send me a signal if something feels wrong.”

They found themselves at the door of Bianka’s room shortly after. Dottore walked over to the wardrobe and started rummaging through it, Bianka watching him with surprise and curiosity. “It should be here somewhere…” he mumbled under his breath. Finally, he chuckled and pulled out a thick coat lined with fur. It resembled the one she had received on the first day of her stay in the Zapolyarny Palace, though it looked more refined and noble.

“What is it? I don’t recall owning such a coat,” she said.

“That’s because you haven’t until this morning,” he replied. “I had it brought to the room when you were helping Mudry. You’ll wear it to the banquet tonight.”

“Someone was in my flat without my knowledge or consent?” she shouted with indignation.

“Oh, stop whining, Bianka; no one has rummaged through your things.” The researcher rolled her eyes. How can one man arouse both sympathy and murderous urges in her simultaneously? “Try to relax a little. In half an hour, the servants will bring you a meal. Eat, wash up, and take a nap if you have enough time… You have to be fresh and rested to keep your eyes and ears open. The Fatui’s banquets are a special celebration; you never know what might happen during them.”

‘Mm, very comforting,’ she thought tartly, then nodded. “I’ll do as much as I can.”

Dottore smiled again. This time, his face was softer and his gaze fond. On an impulse, he reached towards her as if he wanted to touch her cheek or comb her hair, but he hesitated and lowered his arm at the last second.

“Meet me twenty past four in the main hall,” he said instead. “If I don’t arrive in time, wait for me a moment.”

That said, he gently closed the door behind him.

****

Bianka stood in the main atrium and fidgeted on her feet, waiting for Dottore. Her harness was pinching her in the side. Unfortunately, since the day of the banquet was on Friday, she, as agreed, had to wear it. She wouldn’t stand out much anyway. The Fatui’s banquets were different from those of high dignitaries. Here, everyone left the long gowns and dressy suits in favour of a military uniform to emphasise the nature of their organisation.

Despite the tension gripping Bianka’s body, she’d managed to get it together and read a few pages of her book (she should expand her collection a little, as she had already leafed through the current volume so many times that she knew some fragments by heart), but a nap wasn’t even an option. As promised, an hour before the meeting, a hairdresser came to put her hair in order. Bianka was glad that at least she didn’t have to worry about her appearance; even without that, her nerves were already in shreds.

Hearing someone’s footsteps nearby, she turned around, hoping to see the familiar silhouette of Dottore, but then someone not too gently pushed her with an elbow.

“Get out of the way!” he shouted. “Can’t you see I’m coming?”

Bianka bristled, angered by such crude behaviour, and glared at the stranger. The man was quite tall, his dark gold hair reaching his neck. He sported a goatee (which reminded her very much of a certain inhabitant of a mountain town), as well as a grimace of displeasure. His eyes were hidden behind the Fatui’s usual mask, but she knew she wouldn’t have found any warmth in them.

“What are you doing here?” he continued. “Shouldn’t you be doing something useful?”

All of Bianka’s anxiety deported somewhere, replaced by the rage boiling in her veins. “Oh yeah?! I could ask the same of you, bastard!”

The man sneered, then poked his head up with superiority. “My name is Elchingen, and I have been selected to attend a very important event – a banquet in memory of Lady Signora. Lord Dottore recognised my hard work and commitment and bestowed this honour upon me. But what can you know of the relationship we share? It’s too deep and complicated for a mere private to understand.”

Bianka sincerely hoped that Dottore would appear soon and they could finally move towards the banqueting hall; otherwise, she would have to explain why there was a corpse lying in the middle of the atrium. If this simpleton hadn’t been so arrogant, he would have espied her earring, mask, and cloak, which made her position very clear. The thought of sharing one division with this man was revolting.

“That’s very interesting,” she continued, her voice venomous. “Somehow, I don’t recall Dottore ever mentioning your amazing bond of which you’re supposedly so proud.”

Elchingen froze, turning around to finally acknowledge her. She could practically see his growing fear the longer he analysed her appearance,

“Excuse me, but… who are you?” he finally asked.

Bianka straightened up and shot him a hard stare. “I am Bianka Snezhevna, Lord Dottore’s personal assistant, as well as his right hand,” she replied with a superiority that surprised even herself. After a short thought, she added, “I’m also one of the Little Harbingers.”

As if someone had pressed a switch, Elchingen’s demeanour changed dramatically. The man hunched his shoulders and bowed his head respectfully. “My deepest apologies, Lady Bianka. My behaviour was unacceptable. I humbly beg your forgiveness.”

Bianka lost her tongue. Not only was he arrogant, but also two-faced. “You certainly are quick to change your tune. I’m not sure the Doctor will be happy with the way you treated me.”

Elchingen’s face paled. He bowed even lower and joined his hands in a pleading gesture. “Please don’t tell the lord about this incident, my lady. I swear I will never treat anyone like that again in my life.”

Bianka almost burst into laughter.

“What’s going on here?”

Judging by Elchingen’s face, she was surprised he didn’t fall flat and start worshipping the Second Harbinger to the heavens. Dottore, though, shuddered upon realising who it was, trying to hide a grimace of embarrassment. Then, he shifted his gaze to Bianka’s stiffened figure and clenched jaw. His eyes darkened. “Is this man bothering you, Bianka?”

The researcher eyed Elchingen. There was no trace of his arrogance left, replaced by fear and submission. The weasel’s arms and legs were even shaking. Although some part of her soul wanted to see him punished, she snorted and shook her head. “It’s nothing,” she threw back more aggressively than she intended. “We had a minor dispute, but we’ve cleared everything up. Can we proceed to the banquet now, my lord?”

For the second time that evening, a shiver ran through Dottore’s body. Now, however, it was caused not by disgust but surprise at the strength that emanated from Bianka. He thought he knew all there was about her rebellious nature. But clearly, he was wrong. There are consequences if you push her too much. Maybe lowering his guard around her over the last few weeks wasn’t such a fantastic idea.

He turned. “Let’s go, there’s no time to waste.” Then, looking to the still bowing Elchingen, he said, “At ease, soldier.”

Without waiting for a reply, he headed towards the stairs. A sigh of relief echoed behind Bianka just as she caught up with Dottore, walking step by step with him – or trying. Anger continued to thrum throughout her veins. No matter how much she tried to quell it, it stuck, making her tenser with each step.

Abruptly, Dottore grabbed her arm, massaging the tense muscles with his thumb. “I’m sorry you had to come across Elchingen.”

Bianka blinked, dumbfounded.

Dottore nodded. “Yes, I know this soldier. He is one of the Second Harbinger’s subordinates, that is me and my segments, and neither of us is fond of him. He has an unfriendly character, but his loyalty is second to none. We tend to send him on more difficult missions because we know he’ll do everything in his power to complete them, though it tends to backfire and make him even more arrogant. You can forget about him now; I assure you that he won’t ever have the opportunity to work with you.”

Bianka said nothing. The words… did help, though, easing her anger. Dottore squeezed her shoulder one last time, then let go a moment later.

They walked the rest of the way in silence. The only advantage of meeting Elchingen was that Bianka had forgotten all her anxiety, so she could now focus on her surroundings. Dottore led them to a tall door depicting vast ice deserts, coniferous forests, and a star-strewn night sky where the aurora borealis shone.

Before pressing the handle, he turned to her. “Show no fear and hold your head high. This is your place, and you have every right to be here.”

A strange pressure built up in Bianka’s chest, but it was not unpleasant. She turned her gaze towards the Doctor, her face lighting up with a smile for the first time that day. She nodded. “I’m ready.”

Dottore reciprocated the smile. “Then let’s get started!” he replied, pushing the door.

They entered a dark, perfectly circular room. There was only a fireplace (which, however, was unable to dispel the darkness), a few armchairs, and, to Bianka’s amazement, a piano. Like the front door, the walls were decorated with Snezhnayan landscapes and creatures. The floor, meanwhile, was made of obsidian resembling a mirror – looking down, Bianka saw her reflection and the ceiling decorated with a painting of their galaxy and another aurora borealis.

“One leads to the banquet hall and the other to the ballroom,” Dottore whispered as Bianka studied the two doors on the opposite side of the room.

She nodded, shifting her gaze to the gathered. It was one thing to get to know each Harbinger individually but another to see them all together. She caught a glimpse of Pantalone’s raven-black hair, Pulcinella’s fancy hat, and Sandrone’s bored face in the crowd. Sitting at the piano, there was an unknown girl playing a beautiful melody. She had long, dark hair with pink highlights, and her head was adorned with a crown of wings. When she turned her face towards them, Bianka saw that the pianist’s eyes were covered by a thin, silky lace. Lady Columbina, for it couldn’t have been anyone else, paused her playing. A mysterious smile blooming on her face, she began to belt out a new, more cheerful melody.

Not only were the eight remaining Harbingers gathered here, but between them meandered six other, equally dignified dressed people who must have been her companions – the Little Harbingers. There was a large, grim-faced man with dark skin and curly black hair, a petite woman looking at everyone with a smile, as well as…

At the mere sight of another woman, Bianka bared her teeth in a grimace of hatred, a deafening murmur coming from her throat. She blinked a few times, but unfortunately, the lanky girl with short hair and a feisty gaze didn’t disappear. Boyka, her nemesis from when she lived in the House of the Hearth, had also climbed the ladder of the Fatui hierarchy, eventually standing almost at the top. So that meant…

Bianka spotted her. A woman with a tall, slightly masculine figure, black and white hair, eyes so distinctive that Bianka would have recognised them even if the rest of the body had been completely destroyed, and an incredible inner strength that was hard to find in most people. Arlecchino, alias “Knave,” the Fourth of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers, was a remarkable figure in many ways, but Bianka knew her by another name. To her and the other wards of the House of the Hearth, she was their “Father” – their guardian, mentor, guide, and pillar during a time in their youth when the world seemed endless and offered as many beautiful and wonderful adventures as it did pain, monsters, and suffering.

Although Lady Arlecchino treated all her children equally, Bianka always felt a special bond with her. Without thinking, she took a few steps towards her, but the Doctor blocked her path.

“This is your first time, so stay close to me,” he instructed. “For now, just observe, listen to the conversations, and build your opinion about others.”

Bianka nodded. She was still inexperienced; she didn’t want to say something she might regret later. Having returned to his side, they moved towards the crowd. She tried to remain calm and appear composed, a task that wasn’t easy when she felt so many pairs of eyes on her. As far as she could tell, she was the youngest person here, so all the curious stares rested on her. She moved a little closer to Dottore, hoping that her moment of weakness wasn’t too noticeable.

“Ah, Dottore, I’m glad you decided to grace us with your presence after all.” Bianka smiled, hearing Lord Pantalone’s soothing voice. “I was worried that you would slip away like last time.”

Dottore let out a disgruntled gasp, though no one seemed to care – he was acting that way for show rather than out of actual annoyance.

The banker turned his perpetually half-lidded eyes towards her. “And Bianka, too! I have to say, you look splendid in the new mask and earring.”

Bianka bowed her head, frowning internally. Were his words sincere or merely a phrase of politeness?

“How do you like being among so many distinguished personalities?” Pantalone continued.

“It is a real honour, my lord,” she replied, shifting her gaze to a woman with shining eyes who stood faithfully beside the Ninth Harbinger. The woman noticed the tilt of her head and waved a hand at her. Unlike Elchingen, Bianka immediately felt a liking to her.

Pantalone noticed this surreptitious greeting and smiled. “Let me introduce you to each other. This is Yukii, my second-in-command, who has been holding this post for five years. Yukii, this is Bianka Snezhevna, the Doctor’s personal assistant.”

Pantalone looked as if he wanted to say something else, but suddenly, Yukii reached over to Bianka, grabbed her hand, and shook it vigorously. “Hey!”

Her high-pitched voice was so loud that several heads turned in their direction. Regrator squirmed. “Yukii, stop yelling…”

“I’m glad to meet you! The Second Harbinger so rarely brings prospective recruits with him. How long have you been a Little Harbinger?”

Bianka fell silent, surprised by the energy of her new acquaintance. Eventually, she regained her wits. “A little over three months.”

Yukii hummed. “That’s quite a long time.” Bianka tilted her head inquiringly, causing Yukii to giggle. “If I remember correctly, and I’m rarely wrong, the Doctor’s last personal assistant survived about two weeks.”

Bianka’s eyebrows went up. Only two weeks?! And what did she mean by “survived”? She looked at Dottore, whose lips twisted in a maniacal smile. Instead of fear and trepidation, an unnatural hilarity grew in her chest. Bianka snorted and shook her head. “I sincerely hope that I’ll have the chance to live some more years. So far, our work together goes quite well.”

“Oho, that’s good to hear,” Lord Pulcinella cut in. “I would hate to send any more condolences to bereaved family and friends.”

Dottore harrumphed, showing everyone the drooping corners of his mouth. “It isn’t very polite to gossip about me when I’m standing right next to you! Don’t you have something better to do? For example, plotting the subjugation of the entire Snezhnayan economy?”

Pulcinella smiled condescendingly. “Doctor, don’t you know that we accomplished that a long time ago? Our next target is the rest of the continent, and I believe I’m not exaggerating when I say that we’re doing quite well.”

“Indeed,” Pantalone replied. “I give us a year, two at most, before the heart pumping Mora through the golden veins of this world is completely in the Fatui’s hands. Marcel would certainly give us an exact date.” He laughed. “Oh right, isn’t he with you?”

“He’s hanging around somewhere, that lunatic,” Pulcinella muttered. “He hadn’t finished answering the residents’ complaints, so he came in here with some papers and holed up in a corner somewhere.”

“Ahh yes, that sounds exactly like something Marcel would do,” Yukii added. “Even a direct order from the Heavenly Principles wouldn’t have stopped him from fulfilling all his duties.”

“Don’t say that name here! And especially before Her Majesty’s arrival,” Dottore snarled. Yukii smiled, trying to hide her embarrassment, and retreated to Pantalone’s side.

The conversation went on and on. Remembering the Doctor’s advice, Bianka tried to listen, interjecting a few words herself from time to time. She quickly lost interest, however, and recalling her earlier impulse, tried to track Lady Arlecchino with her eyes. She hadn’t seen her for several years. Just one conversation. She just wanted one.

Suddenly, somewhere in the back, she saw white-black hair. As quietly as she could, Bianka retreated, heading along the wall to the other side of the room. Unfortunately for her, a hand clad in a black and dark blue glove gripped her shoulder almost instantly.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Bianka huffed, stopping herself from rolling her eyes, and turned to face her superior. Her mask was unable to defend her from his heavy gaze.

“I told you to stay with me,” Dottore snapped. “Let’s step aside, I have some information to give you.”

He led her to a secluded place not far from the fireplace. Only one of the armchairs was occupied. Sitting in it was a pale as plaster was a man in his thirties, wearing round glasses and a brown suit. In front of him rested several folders filled to the brim with countless sheets of paper and documents. This had to be Marcel, the Rooster’s right-hand man.

Dottore snapped his fingers to get her attention. “Listen to me now. The banquet is not some incredibly important event, but still, there are a few things to keep in mind. Firstly, be careful what you say. Others may try to extract intelligence from you to pass on to their respective Harbingers. Don’t talk about any experiments we are conducting, and certainly don’t mention anything about the Segments. Few people know that there is more than one Second Harbinger, and I would prefer it to remain this way.”

Bianka nodded. In theory, all the Harbingers worked together to achieve the highest goal set by the Tsaritsa, but many of them didn’t live on good terms with each other. Surely there are those who wouldn’t hesitate to use even a rumour thrown in passing to discredit or exploit the Doctor in their own plans.

Dottore continued. “Another matter: did anyone tell you about the ritual that takes place during the banquet?”

Bianka hummed. “Mudry mentioned something but didn’t go into details. Is it some kind of dance? I’m not bad at it, but I’m far from a dancefloor devil either…”

Dottore laughed in a low, deep voice and bared his teeth. “Yes, you still have a long way to reach the rank of master, but that’s not the point.” He frowned. “It’s unlikely, but if anyone invites you to this ‘dance,’ you are to refuse without a second thought. Do you understand?”

“But—"

“Do you understand?!”

Bianka pursed her lips. Dottore was still waiting for her answer, so she finally nodded. “Fine, as you wish. But if it came to it, we’re dancing together, right?”

This time, the man laughed out loud, crossing his arms over his chest. “Believe me, Bianka, you wouldn’t want me to be your partner.” He turned back towards his companions but stopped on second thought. “One more thing. Try not to get one of your attacks today. We wouldn’t want the whole palace to discover your weak point.”

Instantly, the blood in Bianka’s veins roared, and her hands clenched into fists. Curling her lips, she bared her teeth in warning. “Aren’t you asking too much of me, Doctor? You know I don’t have any control over this disease. I can’t just block it out!”

“Oh no, don’t even try to talk back now!” Dottore brought his face towards her, baring his frighteningly sharp fangs himself. “I realise that your seizures can’t be stopped, but if there are any signs – auras, nausea, hallucinations – you are to send me a signal immediately.”

“But I have no symptoms before the seizures!” she hissed. “It just happens.”

Dottore growled and came even closer, straightening up to his full height to dominate her.

Bianka, however, wasn’t scared by this behaviour. “What I truly don’t understand is why you pick now to be so worried, especially after I’m finally calm.”

“I’m not—”

“You’re shaking like a jelly!”

Dottore stared at her for a long time, then turned his nose up proudly. “I won’t allow you to ridicule me and yourself in front of Her Majesty.”

Bianka reacted faster than she thought. She took a step towards the Harbinger, then delivered a quick, straight punch to his stomach. Dottore gasped, clearly not expecting such outrageous behaviour from a subordinate at all, his face then morphing into the embodiment of pure fury. He approached Bianka faster than a whirlwind and pushed her with such force that she slammed her back against the floor and slid another two metres. The impact squeezed all the air out of her lungs. She rose quickly and ran into the Doctor like a battering ram, catching him around the waist. He yanked her by the hair, hitting her kidney with the other. Bianka screamed in pain. She braced herself with one leg, held his hips, and delivered a blow to his crotch. Dottore let out a stifled grunt, swinging—

“STOP! STEP AWAY FROM EACH OTHER, THIS INSTANT!”

The new voice carried so much authority that they both obeyed without hesitation. Bianka’s back and side cried for revenge, not to mention the disaster that was now her once carefully arranged hairstyle. Dottore looked a little better, but the expression on his lips as he looked at the newcomer made Bianka nervous. She hadn’t yet encountered a situation that would trigger fear in the Doctor, but now he resembled a child who had seen a ghost.

As she shifted her gaze to the centre of the room, she realised that their brawl had attracted the attention of everyone present. Most of them were staring at them with varying degrees of embarrassment and indignation; only Lord Tartaglia looked excited, and Lady Columbina laughed as if she had heard a good joke. For a moment, Bianka crossed her eyes with Lady Arlecchino. She couldn’t sense any evident emotions from Father, but nevertheless, an immense shame made tears well up in her eyes. She tried not to look at Boyka, who was smiling with satisfaction.

Bianka swallowed and shifted her gaze to the stranger. Standing before them was a large, powerful man with long white hair and a black mask covering the right half of his face. His outfit couldn’t be pinned down to any nation – white, gold, and navy blue predominated, arranged in shapes resembling radiant suns. When she raised her head and gazed into his visible eye, her legs almost refused to obey. His eerie, star-shaped pupil was her least concern, being more terrified of the crushing gaze he was sending them.

“What reprehensible behaviour!” The deep, snarling tone of his voice vibrated in her ears. “It’s inconceivable that the Second Harbinger would display such low self-control and command over his subordinates. Have you fallen so low that not even your deputy listens to you?”

Dottore stepped back until he hit the wall. It was unimaginable that someone had the power to control such a proud and stubborn man as Lord Dottore, and yet Bianka had a living proof before her. He lowered his head with remorse. “I’m sorry, Jester.”

Then, Lord Pierro turned to her. Bianka wondered how she was still alive – she could swear that the First Fatuus had the ability to kill with just a look, even if it was physically impossible. “And you, a fledgling who has barely left the nest, are already questioning the authority of your master who surpasses you in strength, knowledge, and experience? Perhaps you think that you are the one who deserves the position of the Second Harbinger? If you want to challenge him to a duel, do it honourably and surrounded by witnesses, not like a lowly thug.”

A slap would hurt less.

Bianka’s legs seemed to be rooted to the spot. She couldn’t move, respond, or even breathe deeply. With all her willpower, she forced herself to bow her head. “I am terribly sorry,” she choked out. “I promise it’ll never happen again.”

“Apologise to your Harbinger, not to me,” he rasped. “And now—"

The sound of the door opening echoed in the room. Bianka didn’t dare to raise her head, but she heard quiet greetings and words of respect. Her skin erupted in goosebumps as she realised whose presence she was in.

“Your Majesty, everything is ready, we can start at any time,” Pierro said, leaving to greet the queen. Bianka glanced at the Archon out of the corner of her eye. All she could see was a long, richly decorated gown, a crown, and a veil that covered her face.

“Thank you, Pierro, I knew I could rely on you.” And then sovereign’s gaze turned to them. Suddenly, Bianka became all too aware of her crumpled clothes and tousled hair. “And why are the two of them standing against the wall like that? Has our mischievous Doctor acted up again?”

How could the Tsaritsa’s voice bring to mind both delicate snowflakes and powerful blizzards whose sole purpose is to tear all life apart? Bianka didn’t even notice when she scooted closer to Dottore so that their shoulders were touching.

The Jester looked at them askance and sighed. “We had a minor argument, but the situation has been brought under control. From now on they will behave in an exemplary manner. Right?”

They both nodded quickly, guaranteeing their obedience. It was a pity Bianka couldn’t see Her Majesty’s face. Right now, her emotions were unguessable.

“Let’s not waste any more time; the others are certainly waiting for us,” the Tsaritsa said, gliding towards the door leading to the banqueting hall. Lord Pierro summoned everyone, ordering them to line up according to rank, joining the Queen at her side himself. Some Harbingers walked without a pair; others were accompanied by their deputies.

Dottore moved, prodding Bianka to stand behind the Captain, but Pierro stopped him. “Not you. As a punishment for your earlier buffoonery, you’ll walk at the very end, two steps behind Childe.”

Bianka didn’t have to look at Dottore to know that he was discontent with this turn of events. He didn’t argue, however, heading to the designated place and stopping some distance away from Tartaglia.

Finally, at a signal given by the Tsaritsa, the procession set off. Absolute darkness surrounded them the moment they entered the corridor. Bianka couldn’t see even the tip of her own mask, let alone the Harbingers walking ahead of them. She opted to listen to their footsteps and breaths instead. Throughout the walk Dottore didn’t exchange a single word with her. Their quarrel couldn’t be the only reason, though, for no one spoke to each other. That must’ve been the tradition.

Two minutes later, they reached another door, this time a crude one without any decorations. The Tsaritsa waved her hand, causing the door to emanate a pale blue glow and open slowly, letting in a harsh light that blinded them. Then, Bianka’s ears were attacked by thunderous roars, shrieks, and an ever-present rumble as if everyone was banging something on the tables.

They were in a huge hall filled with round, set tables, twelve people seated at each. Every soldier cheered, and some hit the tabletop with wooden cups, causing a clatter. Countless pairs of eyes were staring at their procession that was heading unhurriedly towards the elevation on the other side of the room.

Bianka flinched, too aware of the puzzled glances directed towards the Second Harbinger, and thus her. Her confidence almost left her again. Although he tried to look proud and menacing, Dottore’s tense muscles and stiffened figure clearly showed his discomfort. Did they really have to walk the entire length of the room? She understood that the procession was usually a show of strength, but now it only emphasised their earlier “performance.”

‘What a disgrace,’ she thought, knowing that Eymen was here somewhere, surely wondering why she looked as if she had been battered by a cyclone and why they weren’t situated closer to the procession’s head.

Walking through the centre of the room, she saw that there was quite a large empty space left here, circular in shape. It probably had something to do with the mysterious ritual. A short time later, they arrived at a platform housing a single table. All the Little Harbingers stopped in front of the steps and lined up while the Queen and the full-fledged Harbingers took their places on the platform.

Finally, the Jester stepped forward. At once, the whole room fell silent, and the assembled rose from the tables.

“Comrades,” his loud voice rang out. “We are gathered here today to honour the memory of our companion, Lady Signora, Eighth of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers, also known by the name Rosalyne-Kruzchka Lohefalter. She fell in foreign lands in a fair duel with the Traveller. Her courage was unparalleled, her will unyielding, and her contribution to the progress of our mission invaluable.” Having pushed back the hem of his coat, he pulled out a small cage. When Bianka looked closer, she saw a butterfly flapping inside, its wings blazing with red fire. Pierro opened the door, letting out the insect which rested on his finger. “May you rest in the ‘Old World’ and witness the birth of the New One.”

At once, all the lights were dimmed so that the butterfly became the brightest point. Pierro blew gently on its wings, and the creature soared into the air, flying towards the opposite end of the room. As it flew, voices echoed throughout the room, each whispering reverently, “Rosalyne, Rosalyne, Rosalyne…” Bianka also joined in the silent chanting, becoming one with her brothers and sisters. The fact that the Harbingers, beings so powerful that almost mythical, had ordinary names was astonishing. It meant Dottore also had one, and she wondered if she’d come to know it.

When the butterfly had traversed the full length of the room, it stopped in front of the door they had come through. Then, it began to burn with brighter and larger flames until it turned into a small ball of fire. As quickly as it appeared, the fire, along with the creature trapped in it, disappeared, leaving not even a pile of ash. The lights of the chandeliers flared again.

“Our companion is gone forever, but we cannot stay idle,” Pierro continued. “The cruel gods still rule our world, indifferent to the suffering and struggles of simple people. Let us take back this power from them, the power that has always been ours, and with it, let us bring absolute peace to the ‘New World.’ For Her Majesty and Snezhnaya!”

The soldiers responded with a deafening roar. Only after the Jester signalled for them to stop did they sit back down at their tables.

Bianka followed the other Little Harbingers and took a seat between Yukii and the sullen, dark-skinned man. Dottore, meanwhile, sat next to Pantalone so that he could make eye contact with her at any time. There were only six Harbinger deputies, so half the seats remained empty. Boyka, Marcel (still with a mountain of folders), and another man she didn’t know, who exuded as much of a commanding aura as Lord Pierro, sat opposite them.

Yukii leaned over to Bianka. “Are you all right? You both were so angry earlier! Did you want to kill each other?!”

“Everything’s fine.” Bianka smiled to reassure her. “I’ve just lost control of my emotions for a moment, that’s all.”

“Be careful you don’t ‘lose control’ one too many times,” Boyka cut in. “I’ve heard of Lord Dottore ripping the guts out of his subordinates for lesser offences.”

Bianka tightened her lips into a thin line. One might think that her and Boyka’s separation would make their mutual dislike diminish a little. Unfortunately, all was well with her old comrade’s animosity, festering and growing like a cancer.

Bianka smiled. “With all due respect—” ‘Which I have very little for you.’ “—as the Doctor’s right-hand man, I have a better idea of where the line lies, don’t you think?”

Boyka grimaced. She clearly wanted to throw in some cutting retort but drowned out when the air resounded with excited shouts.

“That was quick,” the man sitting next to her spoke up. “Even before the first meal. They must have been in a feud.”

“What? What do you mean?” Bianka asked, leaning out to see what all the fuss was about.

Boyka sniggered. “Ha! Didn’t anyone tell you what our sacred ritual is about?”

Bianka tried not to glower.

“Wow, not only have you thrown yourself at Lord Dottore like a rabid animal, but you don’t know anything about the ceremony. Oh dear, I don’t bode a bright future for you.”

‘Take it easy, Bianka, just relax. You can’t attack two people in one evening, the limit has already been reached.’

Thank gods, Yukii had apparently appointed herself as her guardian. “Someone has challenged their comrade,” she explained. “It must’ve been accepted, and now we’ll watch a show of their strength. See, they’re coming!”

She pointed to the two youngsters who were heading towards the empty space where someone had drawn a white circle, some ten metres in diameter. When they got to the centre, they stopped, bowing to the Harbingers as an elderly man approached them.

“Welcome once again to a ceremony whose tradition goes back hundreds of years!” the man boomed. “In just a few seconds, we will witness a battle of honour between Alexei, a sergeant in the service of the Fifth Harbinger, and Marcus, a warrant officer in the service of the Fifth Harbinger. Let’s welcome them once again with thunderous applause!”

Another wave of clapping and shouting resounded in the room. Bianka watched the ceremony with bated breath.

“A quick reminder of the duel’s rules: the fight continues until one of the participants is pushed out of the circle or is unable to continue. A participant can surrender by stepping outside the battlefield or announcing their decision in a loud and clear voice.”

At these words, many people started booing and whistling – voluntary surrender wasn’t well received here.

“During the duel, one may strike with fists, legs, and other body parts. All weapons, Delusions, and Visions are prohibited.”

“A pity,” the dark-skinned man spoke again. “It was more interesting with weapons.”

“What do you mean? They used to fight with blades?” Bianka asked, glancing at the Little Harbinger sitting next to her.

“You’ll have to forgive him,” Yukii whispered when he didn’t respond, clearly too absorbed in the ceremony to pay attention to her questions. “Ekiti is rather reticent. Being Lord Capitano’s right-hand man, he’s said to have the best chance of becoming a new Harbinger. Going back to your question, indeed, even before I became Regrator’s deputy, all tricks were allowed. Over time, however, this was abandoned; apparently, there were too many casualties, not to mention that scraping the blood and organs of dozens of duellists off the floor was quite a challenge.”

Bianka looked at her in disbelief. However, with nothing indicating that Yukii was lying or embellishing the story, she turned back towards the arena.

“And now that all has been said,” the announcer continued, “it’s time for the duel! Warriors, prepare for battle.”

The men stepped away from each other and bowed respectfully before assuming the fighting position she knew so well. Then, after the signal to begin, the fighters circled each other.

Bianka watched their successive punches, blocks, and thrusts, still unable to fully grasp the core of the mysterious ritual. However, when she analysed it in depth, its purpose became clear. Fighting was the oldest and best-known method of establishing hierarchy in both the human and the animal world. Only the highest-ranking and most promising Fatui took part in the banquet, which meant that the future prestige of the combatants would depend on the results of the skirmishes. And, at the same time, friendly sparring was a great way to put extra energy to good use and provide exciting entertainment for the spectators.

“Hey, Yukii,” she muttered, not taking her eyes off the combatants. “Could you explain this ‘challenging’ some more? Do you have to meet any special requirements to participate in duels?”

“Not at all! The only condition is that both people must be present; anyone can challenge each other. So, if you were completely crazy, you could even challenge the Tsaritsa herself!” Yukii then pursed her lips. “Though there’s one unwritten rule that everyone adheres to. You see, if someone of a higher rank than you challenges you, you can safely refuse. But if that person is someone standing below you, refusal is perceived as cowardice. There’s some unpleasantness involved, too. I’m not talking about situations where a mere private challenges a Harbinger; it’s more a sign of their stupidity rather than courage.”

Alexei, the captain, managed to punch his comrade in the temple, causing Marcus to step back and shake his head. Seizing the opportunity, Alexei ran forward and hit Marcus with his shoulder, catching him off guard. Marcus stumbled backward, trying to keep his balance, but to little avail. Instead, he collapsed on his back, falling outside the circle.

The hall reverberated with a cacophony of roars, applause, and the thundering of wooden cups against tables.

The referee ran into the arena, raising Alexei’s hand. “The winner is Alexei, sergeant under the command of the Fifth Harbinger, defeating Marcus, warrant officer under the command of the Fifth Harbinger!”

“Marcus is higher in the hierarchy, right?” Bianka said. “What will happen to him now that he hasn’t defended his position?”

“Nothing in particular.” Yukii wasn’t concerned about the loser’s fate. “He might lose some of the haughtier people’s respect. Alexei, on the other hand, will enjoy more prestige. Who knows, maybe he’ll even become a warrant officer in place of Marcus.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a whole squadron of waiters gliding around the room and pouring some colourless liquid into wooden cups. When her cup was also filled, Bianka lifted it to smell the unknown substance. A pungent smell of alcohol attacked her nostrils. “What is it? Vodka?”

Yukii shrugged. “Apparently it’s some kind of exquisite and rare liquor, but if you ask me, it’s just diluted Fire-Water. You know, so we don’t get too drunk too fast.” She winked at her. Bianka burst into laughter and, seeing that most people had already emptied their cups, drank the alcohol in one gulp. The liquid burned in her throat and warmed her stomach. She coughed a few times and sighed.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit strange that we drink such a delicacy out of ordinary wooden cups found in every household?” she asked. “I thought we’d get glasses made from crystal.”

Yukii giggled. “You’ve seen how many people hit them against the table. If they were made of glass, they’d turn into piles of shards rather quickly. Master Pantalone would certainly get apoplexy if he saw the bill for a new set.”

Bianka couldn’t disagree with her.

Once the two fighters had been treated, the appetizers were brought in. Bianka chose a salmon tartare caught in the coldest seas of Snezhnaya, while Yukii, who turned out to be a vegetarian, licked her lips at the thought of a breaded burrata. The fish paired with fresh cucumbers was exquisite.

Bianka glanced at Dottore from time to time, recalling his table manners (or rather lack of them). Fortunately, the Doctor was aware of the celebration’s gravity and tried to quell his instinct to throw himself at the food. As they consumed the starter, she only heard two smacks, which she considered a great success.

Shortly after the meal, two more sparrings took place. Bianka felt sorry for their participants – fighting with partly full bellies didn’t seem like a dream activity. She herself felt sluggish and sleepy after eating. With each victory, they drank another cup of liquor. And with each cup, she feared ending up under the table more and more, quickly understanding why strong booze had been abandoned in favour of something softer.

“It’s very exciting, isn’t it?” Yukii said with a smile. “To watch all these rousing fights and equally rousing men…”

This time, Bianka laughed without restraint. “Where did you get—"

“Not at all,” Marcel interjected, his tone arrogant. “All this noise is getting in the way of my work and enjoying the meal.”

“Oh, Marcel, try to relax a little,” Yukii whined. “One might think alcohol would lighten your mood, but right now, you’re tighter than a crossbow string. Why don’t you take part in the sparring yourself?”

“I’d rather spar with these papers,” he said, not lifting his eyes from the dossier. Bianka realised with no small amount of admiration that he’d already dealt with half of the files. “It’s a very responsible job, you know? Lord Pulcinella entrusted me with it, and I’m not going to let him down.”

“Jobsworth,” she commented, turning to Bianka again. “So maybe you will give a show of your strength? Surely many people would feel honoured to fight with a person of such high ranking.”

Bianka shook her head. “Oh no, I still lack exp—"

“Ha! Don’t get your hopes up, Yukii, she can’t fight.” Boyka grinned. “Not with her affliction.”

Bianka bulged her eyes. It was one thing for Dottore to mention her illness; he had his eccentric behaviours, and besides, she had already shown him what she thought of his arrogance. But Boyka? She had hoped that as Lady Arlecchino’s right hand, Boyka would show more forbearance. Clearly not.

Bianka smiled. “And here I thought that over the years, your brain had managed to increase its volume by at least a millilitre, but I regret to say that you haven’t made much progress in this regard.”

Boyka’s eyes shone with a dangerous glint, the same look that Dottore gave her before he pounced.

Suddenly, the hitherto silent man, the one sitting between Boyka and Marcel, snarled. “Stop growling at each other like that! The Fatui’s upper crust is watching you. You don’t want to be an object of ridicule, do you?”

‘Like father, like son,’ flashed through Bianka’s mind, knowing that he had to be Lord Pierro’s deputy.

For a few more seconds, the women sized each other up with hostile eyes before, finally, Boyka relented. “You’re right, Bragi. It’s not worth losing your temper over a certain kind of people.”

Bianka didn’t care about the nudge, for the soup had just been served. It was finally peaceful. For a bit. Until somewhere in the middle of the meal, a considerable commotion arose.

Its source turned out to be Childe, who threw his glove in front of Lord Capitano’s plate. The Captain paused with his spoon halfway to his helmet while the youngest Harbinger fidgeted in his seat, waiting for his idol’s decision. After a heavy pause, Capitano sighed, putting down his spoon and rising from his chair. Childe let out something resembling a joyful shout before heading for the arena.

Bianka cast Capitano’s right-hand man, Ekiti, a look. His master was about to fight, but he didn’t look concerned about it. Instead, a smile appeared on his face as if he already knew the spar’s outcome.

“The next duel will feature Lord Tartaglia, Eleventh of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers, and Lord Capitano, First of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers! Warriors, take your positions!”

As soon as the starting signal sounded, Childe rushed towards Capitano, leaping at him with a wild look on his face. However, before he could even touch him, Capitano reached out faster than lightning and grabbed him by the neck. He then swung and hurled the young man far outside the arena.

Bianka nearly spat out her drink. Childe, though, looked oblivious to the fact the duel only lasted a few seconds. In fact, he was grinning like he won the lottery. After another wave of ovations, Bianka emptied her fourth cup of vodka, both for the Captain’s win and Lord Tartaglia’s cheerful nature, so rare in their organisation.

As a result, though, the liquor began to cloud her mind. She rarely had the opportunity to taste alcohol, let alone such quantities. Looking around the room, she wasn’t the only one feeling its effects. The feasters’ conversations and laughter grew louder and their movements more chaotic. She hoped that there weren’t many fights ahead of them, as she feared that some with a weaker head might find themselves in one by the end of the banquet.

When the main course was served, Bianka froze in silent horror. Baked potatoes. Mashed potatoes. Potatoes stuffed with mushrooms. Was this some kind of joke? She glanced in Dottore’s direction, blaming him, but he looked equally surprised by the choice of dishes. He then turned towards her and grinned, noticing her stare. Bianka snorted, not knowing whether it was out of indignation or amusement.

“Hey, sister?” Bianka pressed her lips together, hearing Boyka’s condescending tone. She was holding a glass in her hand, spinning it nonchalantly. “I’ve heard that the Second Harbinger is your personal trainer. Is it true that you ran away from him from the arena yesterday with your tail tucked between your legs?”

Cold surged through Bianka’s veins, turning her blood into a maroon slush and forming a lump of ice in her heart. The chill wasn’t caused by fear, shame, or suffering. This frost had the potential to turn into sharp icicles, as deadly as an assassin’s dagger.

Dottore was right when he told her about Zapolyarny Palace’s regulars – people mercilessly destroying any poor creature who showed even a glimpse of weakness. Bianka had been in this sacred place for only a few days, but she’d already experienced mockery, hostility, and attempts at humiliation.

However, of all these people, Boyka was the worst. Not only because she tried to show her superiority at every turn, but also because she hadn’t given her a peace of mind since their youth.

Bianka gritted her teeth. She was sick of being treated like this!

“Boyka,” Bianka began, her tone ominous. “I believe I have shown a great deal of consideration so far, given your reprehensible behaviour, but you’re unable to appreciate it.” She raised her voice. “I don’t want you to speak to me like that. In case you haven’t already noticed, I am your senior, and I expect due esteem from you.”

If it weren’t for the conversations coming from the other tables, Bianka would swear that someone had stopped time. All the Little Harbingers froze, astonishment clear in their stares. The atmosphere became so electrified that no one dared to even move a finger, too scared of unleashing a murderous storm.

Boyka looked at her as if she couldn’t believe her ears. “What did you say?”

The fury in her voice was almost palpable, yet Bianka didn’t flinch. She would never again show weakness to her old companion. Never.

“I said,” she repeated, “keep your mouth shut if nothing comes out of it but name-calling and stupidity.”

Maybe her words were driven by alcohol. Maybe she was going to regret them later. However, now, she felt wonderful.

Boyka’s eyes bulged, and Bianka saw a seed of uncertainty in her posture. ‘Good. It’s time for you to get to know your place.’

Beside her, Yukii tried to calm her with gentle words, but Bianka ignored her. “Ever since I can remember,” she continued, “you’ve tried to show your superiority, humiliate, and ridicule me. But in doing so, you’re showing the world your greatest weaknesses: lack of self-confidence, violent tendencies, and jealousy that our ‘Father’ has always preferred me to you.”

For a few seconds, Boyka didn’t move. She glanced at her comrades. Having noticed their uncertain and questioning glances, her face contorted in absolute fury. She forcefully put her glass down and rose from her chair. With an unhurried step, she circled the table, approaching Bianka, who didn’t show even a shadow of concern.

Finally, Boyka removed her glove and threw it in front of Bianka’s plate. “You think you’re better than me, do you? In that case, I challenge you to a duel! Let’s decide once and for all which of us truly deserves the title of the Fourth’s Harbinger deputy!”

This time, Bianka hesitated. The banqueters closest to their table noticed what was happening and watched her keenly. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Lord Dottore looking at her and shaking his head. It was understandable; he’d warned her not to accept any challenges that evening.

However, was resignation a good option? She couldn’t hide the fact that Boyka had more fighting experience and had been training much longer than her. The chances of winning presented themselves rather poorly. But what of the rules? Bianka was of higher rank than Boyka, so failing to take the challenge would bring her disgrace and squander any chances of gaining the respect of others.

Slowly, the earlier nervousness lifted its ugly head again. ‘No, I can’t panic now!’ she rebuked herself, looking straight into Boyka’s eyes. She recalled all the situations when she felt small and weak because of the destructive words and actions of her stronger “sister.” When Boyka tried to diminish the weight of her achievements and throw a spanner into her works. When Bianka tried to defend the younger children from the wrath of the person who should have supported them.

And then, she already knew what decision she should make.

“I accept your challenge.”

The room thundered with more excited shrieks and roars. Bianka strode towards the centre of the room, refusing to glance at the Harbingers’ table. She knew Dottore wouldn’t be happy, and she couldn’t afford any uncertainty now.

Standing in a circle facing her superiors, she gazed at a point somewhere above their heads. As Boyka joined her, they both bowed to the Harbingers and Her Majesty.

“The next battle shapes up to be extremely interesting!” the master of ceremonies said. “In the fifth duel, Boyka Snezhevna, right hand of the Fourth Harbinger, will face Bianka Snezhevna, personal assistant and right hand of the Second Harbinger! Warriors, take your positions!”

Encouraged by the applause, they both stood opposite each other and bowed their heads slightly. The fighting stance came naturally to Bianka as if she had been training it since her youth.

And then, a familiar face. Eymen. Bianka’s heart stabbed painfully at the concern and fear marred across it. For a second, she wanted to run to him, hide behind his back, and let him solve the problem, just like he did at the Main Research Institute every time she got into trouble.

She quickly shrugged it off and looked away. ‘Eymen, my friend, you’ve always been a source of strength for me and haven’t hesitated to extend a helping hand to me even once. But now it’s time for me to take care of myself and defend my honour.’

The referee shot them a watchful gaze. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, let’s begin at last,” Boyka growled, shifting impatiently on her feet.

Bianka closed her eyes, listening to her body. Her muscles, which have been getting stronger with every tough workout. Her lungs supplying her body with invigorating oxygen. Her heart beating stronger and faster from the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She cleared her mind of thoughts of Dottore, of Eymen, of the dozens of eyes watching their duel.

And then, she opened her eyes, focusing on her opponent. “I’m ready.”

“In that case, there’s nothing left for me to say but… fight!”

Boyka didn’t hesitate, throwing herself at her opponent with a furious roar. Seeing Boyka’s clenched fist, Bianka quickly covered her head with her arms. However, this was only a deception. Boyka bumped into her exactly the same way Bianka had earlier bumped into Dottore. Bianka tried to brace her legs while pummelling the other woman, but she was unable to counter Boyka’s strength.

They began to move towards the circle’s line. It seemed that their fight would be over before it had even begun. But then, just at the edge of the arena, Boyka changed tactics. She straightened up, grabbing Bianka by the halves of her jacket, then threw her over her back towards the centre of the battlefield.

The researcher hit the floor. pain searing through her back down her limbs to the tips of her fingers; she could barely catch her breath. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Boyka’s foot heading quickly towards her head. At the last moment, she rolled away and rose to her feet.

She couldn’t understand it. If Boyka hadn’t changed the attack, she would have thrown her out of line and won the skirmish. Meanwhile, she decided to drag her back to the middle, deliberately prolonging the fight. Bianka looked at her twisted face and into her hate-filled eyes. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Ah. Boyka didn’t want to win the fight just like that. She wanted to drive Bianka to the brink, make her unable to get up from the ground, show her dominance.

Bianka swallowed. ‘Focus, she can’t win! Remember what Dottore taught you.’ Suddenly, she heard his harsh words in her head, ordering her to move at all times. She clenched her teeth. He was right, she couldn’t stand still like a dummy and wait for her opponent to attack. She would never win that way.

Boyka launched another attack, but this time, Bianka didn’t remain passive. As she approached, Bianka stepped to the side, avoiding her blow to aim at her opponent’s temple. She missed, merely brushing Boyka’s head. Despite this, Boyka spat with indignation. Fast as a cheetah, she turned on her heel and grabbed Bianka’s shoulders. Bianka tried to push her away, pressing her fingers into her larynx, but Boyka’s anger gave her strength. She moved closer and hit Bianka in the thigh with her knee.

Bianka screamed in pain, jerking out of the embrace. Her leg pulsed to the rhythm of her frantically beating heart. She knew that if Boyka’s punch had been a little stronger, it could’ve broken her bone.                                                                         

Boyka barked out a laugh. “Are you really the Second Harbinger’s right hand? Look at you; you’re more suited to be a guinea pig! Surely you would serve him better by donating your body in the name of science.”

Despite the pain, Bianka bared her teeth in a grimace of fury and growled at her old comrade like a wild animal.

Boyka chuckled. “Oh, the hare’s upset? In that case, why don’t you stop hiding behind your lanky arms like a snot and finally show what you’re made of?”

Boyka spread her arms as if inviting Bianka to demonstrate her capabilities. And despite knowing it was a trap, Bianka rushed forward with an angry snarl, delivering more blows, trying to hit Boyka in the face. But, in doing so, she exposed herself, and Boyka took advantage of the gap in her defence, punching her in the neck.

Bianka caught herself by the throat, unable to catch her breath. Another mistake. Seconds later, her stomach erupted in a new wave of pain. She hunched reflexively, trying to move away, but Boyka held her and punched several times in the side that had been battered earlier by Dottore. Another scream full of suffering ripped from the researcher’s throat, dark spots taking over her vision until Boyka tugged at her hair, lifting her head to hit her nose with the base of her other hand. This time, the pain was like a burst of fireworks, blinding her and clouding her mind as first blood poured. Bianka barely managed to stay conscious, almost falling to the floor. She could taste her own sweat. Somewhere in the distance, as if through a wall, sounded the cruel laughter of her rival, as well as the booing and name-calling of the spectators.

She had no chance of winning if she fought fair.

 ‘Boyka is stronger, faster and more experienced. Everyone can see that she could’ve ended this fight a long time ago, but she prefers to mock me. The only option left for me is to play it smart.’

Unfortunately, exhaustion and pain emanating from every part of her body made it impossible to formulate a good plan. She could give up, but then her only chance to raise her status would be lost. She could also keep fighting, but by the time Boyka was finished with her, her body would look like a canvas on which an artist had applied purple, green, and red paints in random places.

Boyka was aware of Bianka’s position too. Every now and then, she would approach her, feign another blow, and then retreat, bringing her even further off balance. It went like that for a few minutes, the women circling each other and wandering all over the field.

Finally, Bianka’s gaze came to rest on the Harbingers’ table. Dottore looked as enraged as he was terrified. He squirmed in his seat, shaking his head as if he hoped the banquet was just a bad dream. Bianka didn’t hold it against him. Even before he left, he had warned her to follow his instructions. She had once again broken her promise and was now paying the price.

With a heavy heart, she shifted her gaze to another Harbinger whom she held in high esteem. As usual, Lady Arlecchino’s face expressed absolutely nothing. An outsider might have thought that the woman was downright bored with her “daughters”’ fight. But then she looked straight into Bianka’s eyes as if sensing her gaze. Suddenly, Bianka remembered something extremely important – one of the first truths that every child of the House of the Hearth learned. Their Father would repeat it after every failed mission, before dealing the final blow or when another of their sibling was taken by death.

Anger makes you impulsive, and sorrow causes you to waver.

Boyka was undoubtedly a great fighter and a smart woman, but she had one weakness – she struggled to control her own emotions.

Breathing deeply, Bianka straightened up and puffed out her chest. “Boyka!”

Her opponent hesitated, clearly not expecting the sudden change in behaviour. Some of the banqueters sitting closest to the arena also fell silent, curious to hear what she had to say.

“You have a lot of nerve,” Bianka continued, hoping her voice was commanding, “insulting me and claiming that I don’t deserve the position of Little Harbinger when you yourself don’t fulfil the will of our Father.”

Boyka froze. An unbridled hostility had joined the aura of resentment.

Bianka couldn’t chicken out now; all that was left was to keep talking. “You’ve always been mean, rebellious, and arrogant. I can’t count the children, your own brothers and sisters, whom you have harassed, made cry, or destroyed their self-esteem.” With every word more and more rage built up in her chest. She couldn’t, she wouldn’t, give her that win! “Your despicable behaviour didn’t miss me either.” Her voice got louder. “And it’s all because of the jealousy that eaten and still eats away at your insides. Jealousy of my bond with Father, of the fact that I was the one she wanted to appoint as her right hand.”

“You—”

“No. I’m talking. In the end, I left, and you obtained a desired place. But you know what? You haven’t changed at all. You haven’t gained wisdom. You don’t have the charisma and aura of a leader. You’re still a spoilt brat who thinks she’s entitled to everything.”

Boyka opened her mouth.

“And on top of that,” Bianka sneered, “you don’t follow the most important rule that Father taught us – to keep a clear mind and be loyal to your own ‘family.’”

They glared into each other’s eyes.

“And that is why,” Bianka finished firmly, “you will never become a true ‘King.’”

The room was utterly silent. Boyka stared at her, not moving a single muscle. She looked like a statue, waiting for someone to breathe life into her. Then, gradually, her brows furrowed, her lips twisted, and her eyes took on a murderous glare. No words came from her throat. Instead, she screamed, packing all the fury, venom, and shame into the roar, and hurled herself at Bianka like a goddess of vengeance. The researcher hunched, protecting her head and stomach before a flurry of blows rained down on her.

She was no stranger to pain. More than once, she had scraped her knee, writhed from poisoning, or endured the needle stabbing she hated so much. The wound inflicted by the Beast wasn’t the most pleasant either. She thought that she had learned every aspect of this unpleasant feeling.

Oh, how wrong she was!

Pain exploded on her skin, resembling lightning strikes, gnawing at her body and tearing at her nerves. Bianka tried with all her might to stand still while Boyka attacked her without a trace of mercy, but she could barely hold her balance.

For the first time this evening, she felt fear for her own life.

Her comrade beat, scratched, tugged at her clothes and hair, kicked, and once even tried to pull at her earring and tear it from her ear. Bianka endured this torture, even though they ripped cries of agony from her throat and tears soaked her cheeks. She had to stand her ground; if she fell, everything would be in vain.

When she lowered her guard slightly due to exhaustion, Boyka immediately took advantage and knocked her mask off her face with a powerful strike. Bianka corrected her defence, preparing for another volley of blows.

Because, fortunately, her plan seemed to be bearing fruit.

With each strike, Boyka exposed herself more and more, heedless of a possible counterattack. When she hit Bianka’s shoulder with force, Bianka screamed briefly, her arm falling to her side. She managed to take a step away from her opponent and position herself sideways to protect the faulty limb, and Boyka smiled, throwing herself at Bianka’s weaker side to finally end the fight.

Bianka was just waiting for that.

As soon as Boyka came within a hair's breadth, Bianka tensed her arm which wasn’t as injured as it might seem, clenched her hand, and, using all the strength of her arm, shoulder, and back muscles, spun around to bang her right in the face. A loud CRACK echoed throughout the room as her fist collided with Boyka’s jaw, the delicate bones of her arm flaring with a new wave of pain.

The impact jerked Boyka’s head backwards. The woman didn’t let out even a groan. For one terrifying moment, time stood still, everyone awaiting the next move with bated breath.

And then, Boyka flashed with the whites of her eyes and collapsed on the floor in slow motion, unconscious.

Unlike the racket raging during the previous skirmishes, the current silence was so profound that it rang in Bianka’s ears. She slowly let the air out of her lungs, resting her hands on her knees. Every part of her body was like living flesh, emanating terrible pain. Blood was still oozing from her nose, and sweat prickled her eyes. She glanced at Boyka. She didn’t seem so powerful anymore.

And then, the absolutely impossible truth came to her – she won the fight, she really did!

The referee was also aware of this. He entered the arena to announce the winner, but suddenly, Bianka held out her hand, ordering him to stop. The man looked at her with consternation, but hesitated, seeing that the earlier tenacity had returned to her face.

“Not yet,” she croaked, her voice worn down from earlier screams.

“But, my lady—"

“Not. Yet,” she repeated.

The man relented.

Bianka took two deep breaths and, grimacing, straightened up. She knew that the gathered were watching her every move. But why would she care? Unhurriedly, she walked over to the mask that lay near the white line, picked it up, and placed it over her face, approaching Boyka’s limp body. The atmosphere became so thick that if speared onto a fork and swallowed, it would get stuck in one’s throat.

Bianka snarled and spat right next to Boyka’s head. “I told you you’d never become a real King.” Then, she leaned over, grabbed the front of Boyka’s blouse, and dragged her across the floor. At the edge of the arena, she took one last look at the woman – Snezhevna, an orphan like her, who could have become her sister but had forever forfeited that chance. Using the last bits of her strength, she threw her over the chalk line.

The act broke the spell of silence. At once, the entire hall erupted in the loudest, most thunderous applause of the evening. Their disorderly shouts turned into joyful chanting of Bianka’s name. A sudden sensation of déjà-vu hit her – was she standing in a forest clearing, surrounded by the inhabitants of a mountain town after having won a battle with the churls?

After a while, the illusion passed. The referee led her to the circle’s centre. She managed to catch a glimpse of Yukii, who had nearly climbed onto the table from excitement, and the other Little Harbingers banging their cups on the table (oh, how they resembled her old friends at the moment!), before standing in front of the Harbingers. Bianka lifted her gaze, looking proudly at her commanders. If she hadn’t been so exhausted, she would’ve roared with laughter, seeing the look on Dottore’s face. He was sitting at the very end of his chair, his mouth open in complete shock. Before her eyes, Lord Pantalone raised his hand to Dottore’s jaw and closed it. Everyone clapped, even Her Majesty, still hidden behind her veil. She could see that some of the Harbingers were mumbling something among themselves, not taking their eyes off her, but she didn’t care.

Eventually, her gaze wandered to the Fourth Harbinger.

Father always exuded and aura of dignity and kept a cool head. In the past, whenever Bianka saw her, her words were matter-of-fact, her expression blank and calculating.

Now, however, the corners of her mouth lifted upwards.

And Bianka’s heart soared into the heavens, illuminated by the multicoloured, dancing lights of the aurora borealis.

And thus Bianka Snezhevna, with her face dirty from blood and tears, a bruised body, and a slowly swelling eye, showed the entire Zapolyarny Palace the great strength that rests within her.

****

The medics carried the unconscious Boyka out on a stretcher. Bianka was no expert, but she knew her blow had broken the woman’s jaw. Her own injuries also prevented her from attending the rest of the banquet. Her only consolation as she walked through the hall was that she had come out of it on her own.

Having reached the infirmary, she was immediately surrounded by three nurses. They led her to a bed hidden behind drapes and ordered her to strip down to her underwear. When she saw the enormity of her injuries, she nearly collapsed from shock. Her stomach, legs, and arms were riddled with bruises. The side attacked by both Dottore and Boyka was decorated with a giant haematoma. The skin around her right eye had begun to turn purple, the swelling preventing it from fully opening. The blood from her nose had dried up, but a small stream was still oozing from the cut on her cheek. Fortunately, it looked like bruises and minor lacerations were her biggest injuries, which didn’t mean the pain was equally innocent – the numbness caused by adrenaline had begun to subside in favour of painful throbbing and unbearable discomfort.

The nurses wasted no time attending to her injuries, lubricating her bruises with vitamin C ointment, disinfecting any wounds, wiping her face with a damp handkerchief, and dressing her in bandages and gauze. One of them wanted to give Bianka a painkiller too, but at the sight of a needle, she hid under the duvet and refused to stick even the top of her head out.

“Don’t bother, she won’t let you. I’ll take care of it.”

At the sound of Dottore’s reassuring voice, she finally lifted the hem of the duvet. He stood by her bed, holding two plates covered with lids. The nurses bowed and left, closing the drapes behind them.

Dottore sat down on a stool and placed the plates on the bedside table. He took off his mask, chuckling. “How much longer are you going to hide like that?”

Bianka slid out from under the duvet.

Seeing her almost naked body, Dottore took fresh pyjamas from the cupboard. “Here, get dressed so you don’t parade around the infirmary in just your panties.”

Bianka put on the pyjamas, glancing at Dottore out of the corner of her eye. He was staring off into the distance, his face as impenetrable as the darkest night.

Finally, he sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “You do realise that you don’t have even a shred of self-preservation, right?”

Bianka cringed, lowering her gaze. “I know, I’m sorry, I disobeyed you again…”

“It’s true, you’ve once again gone against my words.”

Bianka hunched even more.

“However… this time, I’m glad you did. You were amazing.”

She froze. Was her mind playing tricks on her or had Dottore really complimented her? She lifted her gaze; her heart skipped a beat when she saw his big, sharp-toothed smile.

“Three weeks,” he said, shaking his head. “Three weeks since I started training you, and you’ve already beaten Fourth Harbinger’s deputy, who’s been training for years!” A short laugh escaped from his throat. “I thought that after living four hundred years, nothing in this world would be able to amaze me anymore, but you contradict this thesis.”

“Does that mean,” the corners of her mouth began to lift, “that you’re not angry with me?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he cut off sharply. “Heading here, I was wondering whether I should congratulate you or rather beat the pants off you. I admit I was leaning towards the second option, but when I saw the state you’re in, I decided to turn a blind eye to your insubordination… again.”

Bianka grinned. She moved towards him, not knowing herself whether she wanted to scoot closer, touch him, or maybe even throw herself around his neck. However, a sharp pain pierced her body, and she groaned and grabbed her stomach.

Dottore positioned the cushions so that she could lean against them. “Where are you going, eh? You think you’ll get back to full fitness right after such a fierce fight? You’ll have to rest for a few days; I’ll only allow you to do simple lab work. And since you didn’t want a painkiller, you’re going to suffer now.”

Bianka grunted but obediently sank back on the pillows and covered herself with the quilt. Dottore placed the first plate in her lap and uncovered the lid. Her nostrils were hit by the delicious smell of tenderloins in chanterelle sauce, salad, and…

‘Baked potatoes…’ she thought, sighing with resignation.

“You didn’t finish eating before you were challenged, am I right? Please, go on. You’ve earned it.”

Bianka sent him a grateful look and set about eating her belated meal. Her stomach was still clenched from emotions, however, so she only managed to clear half of the plate before she felt full.

“So little? Won’t you be hungry?”

Bianka shook her head, her eyelids getting heavier with each passing minute. She was unable to hold back a yawn.

Dottore looked at the other plate. Having removed the lid, she saw a generous portion of tiramisu. “Does that mean you’ve no more room for dessert?”

She smiled, knowing what he was hinting at. “No, Dottore, you can have my portion. I believe you’ll manage it perfectly well.”

The Doctor looked away in embarrassment, accepting the plate, however. The time it took him to consume the tiramisu was appalling – as if he were a piranha in disguise.

Having absorbed the dessert, he licked his lips and rose from the stool. “Alright, now that you’ve been patched up and fed, I can take you to the lab.”

Bianka raised her eyebrows. “To the laboratory? Shouldn’t I spend the night here?”

Dottore shrugged. “If you want to sleep next to your rival, be my guest.”

With such a strong argument, she couldn’t argue.

Bianka wanted to get down and walk to the laboratory on her own feet, but Dottore stopped her, informing her that he would wheel her there on the bed. She had to admit, she felt a bit like a queen in a palanquin as doctors, nurses, and patients parted before them.

When the Harbinger exited the lift that took them near the operating theatre, Bianka didn’t expect an entourage of five excited segments to greet them.

“Ha, ha, my girl!” Seven threw himself in her direction with a broad smile. “I knew our training had honed your skills. You destroyed her, Bianka, and with one punch at that!”

“Watch out,” Ayaz muttered in a bored voice. “Can’t you see the bandages and bruises? Step back, or you’ll damage her even more.”

Taking advantage of inattention from his older brothers, Fripon jumped onto the bed frame and looked at her with sparkling eyes. “Can you teach me this trick? I would be delighted if I could use it on Three.”

“Hey, turn your mind elsewhere.” Erva set the boy down on the floor before she had time to reply. “Bianka only used it to defend herself. You are safe here, so you don’t need it.”

Fripon pouted his lips. Bianka shot them a surprised look. “You mean you all were watching my duel?”

“That’s right,” Mudry confirmed. “Master was kind enough to connect with us. It was very clever of you to tease Boyka so her emotions would prevail over logic. I’ve always believed that technique is more important than strength.”

Bianka smiled, happy at the compliment, while Dottore grumbled and pushed the bed. “Let me take her to the bedroom. You’ll have plenty of time to attack her with questions later.”

The segments didn’t comply with the Doctor’s remark.

“How do you feel as the winner of such an important duel?” Seven asked as Dottore guided the bed. “There’s no denying that in the eyes of many Fatui, you have become a fully-fledged Little Harbinger today.”

Bianka thought about it, snorting quietly. “I know I should feel proud of myself… but right now, all I feel is fatigue and pain all over my body. The only thing I dream of is twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep.”

Seven cackled, nodding his head. Perhaps he had expected such an answer.

“You were too gentle with her,” Ayaz added. “You should’ve at least kicked her, taken revenge for your own wounds.”

“And taint my foot with her touch?” she retorted. “Yuck, I would have had to throw the shoe in the trashcan.”

This provoked another burst of giggles. Ayaz tutted, but he couldn’t hide the smile blooming on his face.

Having reached the room, Dottore put the bed against the wall and switched on the lamp – the same one she had used two days ago to attack him.

“You will spend tonight here,” he announced. “Mudry will stay with you to observe your condition. Your injuries don’t look serious, but it’s better to play it safe.” He fell silent for a moment. Then, as if he had made up his mind, he said, “When we first arrived at the palace, I wanted to keep you close to me. You’ve spent most of your life in the House of the Hearth, where you knew every one of your comrades, and the last years in the Main Research Institute, isolated from the world. With your lack of fighting skills too, I thought you would need protection and support. Today, however, you have shown that you can take care of yourself. Boyka Snezhevna is a really good fighter, yet you beat her in a fair fight. Don’t be surprised if you suddenly become well-known in the ranks of the Fatui, you certainly surprised many a soldier today.” He licked the scar on his lip and, looking away, muttered, “I was impressed by your courage and fighting will too. I know that you have a tendency to come up with the most idiotic ideas, but I still didn’t expect this from you. In short,” he looked her in the eye, “well done.”

Warmth invaded Bianka’s cheeks, her heart galloping once again. To hear such sincere praise from Dottore’s lips was no mean feat. She wanted to thank him, to tell him how much his words meant to her, but she couldn’t get a single word out. She lowered her head and squeezed his hand instead.

The Harbinger hummed, sensing her intentions. “No need to be so embarrassed; I can assure you that everything I said was true. And now…” He held out his hand to Mudry, who handed him something. She bulged her eyes, seeing a syringe full of painkiller.

Bianka was already grabbing the duvet to cover herself again when Dottore put his hand on her shoulder. “Hey,” his voice was surprisingly calm, “you’ve endured a lot of pain today. You’ve been beaten, kicked, and scratched, and you’ve bared it all. And now you’re telling me you’re going to chicken out before one little sting?”

Bianka hated how easily he could induce embarrassment in her. Begrudgingly, she lifted her sleeve and looked away as he lifted the syringe. Her whole body was so sore that she didn’t feel the injection at all. Perhaps that would’ve been the end of it, but then one of the segments snorted with barely held-back laughter.

She turned abruptly, almost ready for another skirmish. Before she had time to challenge the scoundrel, however, Dottore placed his hand on her forehead and gently pushed her to lie down. “Stop your violent emotions; they don’t serve a quick recovery. It’s late already. Get some sleep; I have to get back to the banquet. If you feel better tomorrow, you can return to your workroom.”

Having said that, he headed for the exit, taking all the segments except Mudry with him.

“Good night,” Bianka managed to say, the agent coursing through her body and making her feel increasingly sleepy.

Dottore stopped with his hand on the door handle and shot her a smile. “Good night, Bilmece.”

Just as he was about to close the door, Fripon rushed into the room, ran to the bed, and placed Kurage on her stomach. “He will keep you company.”

He looked up at her with sparkling eyes, expecting praise. Bianka chuckled, tousling his hair. “Thank you, Fripon, I certainly won’t feel lonely.”

Fripon grinned and left the room, giggling like a fool. Dottore nodded to her one last time and closed the door behind him.

Bianka sighed in relief, glancing out of the corner of her eye at Mudry, who lay on his back on the adjacent bed and stared at the ceiling.

“Aren’t you going to be bored?” she whispered. “Perhaps you would prefer to go back to your office after all? I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

Mudry shook his head. “Are you joking? Not having to do anything all night? This is the greatest assignment I’ve ever been given. I will stay and watch over your health.”

Bianka felt a pleasant warmth spread over her body. Kurage settled into the spot between her neck and collarbone and began to clean his fur. Using the last of her strength, she turned off the lamp and closed her eyes, reflecting on the events of today. She smiled. Yes, her first duel would certainly be remembered for a long time.

Chapter Text

The next day, Bianka’s body began to recover, but it was only after a week of rest and lighter work that she returned to full fitness.

As soon as she was able to walk the full length of the hall without persistent pain, she decided to visit Eymena. The last time he had seen her, she was being crushed by her opponent. Since then, they hadn’t managed to exchange even a single word. It was high time to change that.

When she knocked on the door of his flat, it wasn’t Eymen but an unfamiliar man who opened it. He was fair-skinned with blond hair adorned by a single blue strand.

Bianka furrowed her eyebrows just as the man gave her a dumbfounded expression of his own. She had seen this man somewhere before.

She searched her mind for the lost face. And suddenly it dawned on her. “Hey, wasn’t it you and your friend who made fun of me in the arena a few weeks ago?”

The man bulged his eyes and turned pale. “Please forgive me, my lady—your ladyship,” he stammered. He cleared his throat. “What have we done to deserve the honour of your visit, my lady?”

‘That’s better,’ she thought with satisfaction.

“I came to see Eymen; he’s my friend. Is he here?”

The man let out a remarkably intelligent “eeee,” wondering whether he should help this powerful warrior or rather close the door right in front of her nose.

“Bianka, is that you?”

Her lips curved into a smile. Without waiting for the stranger’s decision, she pushed past him and threw herself into Eymen’s embrace. Eymen hugged her tightly, reassuring his roommate that everything was fine. The man squirmed, then took his coat and left the flat to give them some privacy.

“I was so worried about you!” Eymen exclaimed. “That woman didn’t give you even a moment’s rest; I could barely watch it. And you still won! You are truly amazing!”

Bianka lowered her head, embarrassed.

“As soon as the banquet was over, I ran to the infirmary, but you were no longer there.”

“The Doctor came earlier and took me to the laboratory,” she explained. “I, too, regret that I couldn’t see you earlier. I was weakened and needed a few days to get back to full strength. But now I’m here, and that’s all that matters.”

Eymen agreed with her.

They spent the next two hours talking, gossiping, and reminiscing about old times before Bianka wandered back to the Second Harbinger’s complex. Along the way, soldiers, servants, and diplomats shot her not-so-subtle, curious glances. She cringed, quickening her steps.

The story of her battle with Boyka had spread among the members of the Fatui like lightning rushing towards the ground. Boyka was a much more experienced fighter, so Bianka’s victory was downright incredible. The palace regulars were coming up with ever more fantastic reasons for this. Some claimed that she had been subjected to a mysterious experiment that increased her strength and stamina. Others said they’ve seen Bianka use unprecedented power, similar to the magic of the Vision Holders, to knock out her opponent. The most unbelievable stories declaimed that she was the lost daughter of Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa, and possessed power equal to that of the Archons themselves. Bianka didn’t like being the centre of attention, so she tried to avoid strangers as much as she could. She knew that any attempt to debunk the rumours could actually inflame them.

When she returned to the lab, only Seven was present, working on a Ruin Grader. His head was somewhere in the guts of the robot.

“Hello, Seven!” she greeted.

The segment jerked violently, then let out a groan of pain as he hit the back of his head. “Wotcha, Bianka,” he grunted, massaging the throbbing area. “How are your battle wounds? Better than my head, I hope?”

She reciprocated his smile. “Better, of that I can assure you. Where are the others? It’s not usually so peaceful here.”

“That’s good to hear!” he rejoiced. “You know them, one minute they’re meddling in the hall, the next they’re at the opposite end of the palace… Don’t ask me about Fripon – nobody ever knows where he is. But Erva is helping Ayaz with a surgery, Dottore had to leave to discuss something with Pantalone, and Mudry is taking care of the patients downstairs.”

Bianka trembled. She hated going to the basement, where the Doctor’s test subjects were locked up. Fortunately, Dottore knew her aversion to the underground, and her trips there were rare.

“Hey, while you’re here, maybe you’d be willing to help me out?” Seven pointed behind him. “This grader is proving to be quite a tough nut to crack.”

She nodded. “Gladly; that’s what I’m here for.”

“Great, then let’s get to work!” The segment pressed a screwdriver into her hand before suddenly the ground disappeared.

“Seven!”

“I need you to undo these screws so we can remove the outer plates and check the wiring,” Seven said as he lifted her above his head, turning her so that she was parallel to the robotic arm. “I’d do it myself, but I can’t reach it, and I don’t want to run back and forth with the stool.”

“Can you really hold me that long?” she asked, unscrewing the first bolt.

Seven snorted with amusement. “Don’t worry! You’re as light as a feather.”

His words calmed her down. They worked like this for several minutes until the familiar tap of ironshod boots rang out behind them.

“A peculiar way of working, I must admit,” Dottore said. “You have my recognition of your creativity.”

Bianka tilted her head and waved, amused by looking at the Harbinger upside down.

“Though, unfortunately, I have to interrupt your fun,” he continued. “Bianka, I want you to help me and Mudry with the round. Apparently, he’s having a problem with one of the patients; we need to check it out.”

Drat! Some particularly nasty god from Celestia must have read her thoughts and decided to prank her. She sighed. “OK, I’m coming.”

Seven lowered her to the floor. She handed him the screwdriver and reluctantly walked towards the locked door.

Dottore followed. “Don’t worry, I promise it won’t take long.”

The corners of her mouth rose involuntarily. Lately, Dottore was showing some behaviour indicative of concern for her welfare. And he was making promises to her too? If it went on like this, her own hubris would compact her into a pancake.

The descent down the stone ramp into the darkness was just as ominous as the first time. Only the presence of Dottore, whose breath puffed on the back of her neck, kept her from fleeing upstairs.

Mudry was waiting for them before the entrance to the cell corridor. He had a gloomy expression, which was rare. Usually, the man exuded an aura of serenity.

“What’s going on, Mudry?” Dottore asked while worry settled in Bianka’s stomach. “Aggression, madness, a lost experiment?”

The segment shook his head. “One of the test subjects stopped responding to commands and other verbal stimuli. It’s confused and has problems with orientation.”

“Which one?”

“Number 0726.”

Dottore pursed his lips and grunted in displeasure. “I’d be lying if I said it surprises me. Let’s go; I want to have a look at it.”

Mudry opened the door and walked down the corridor. Bianka reluctantly followed.

“Do you really remember the numbers of all your… patients?” she enquired, unable to call these poor, grief-stricken people mere guinea pigs.

Dottore shook his head. “No, the numbers of some escape me, especially if they stay for a short time. But this patient I remember.”

About halfway down the corridor, Mudry put his hand to a panel and opened a door. The room was dark, illuminated by nothing but a small lamp set next to the bed. In it: an occupant.

Even at first glance, it was obvious that the woman was very old – her skin was wrinkled like a dried plum, her head was almost completely bald, and her gaze was absent. Even when Mudry switched on the overhead lights, she didn’t react. Looking so weak, Bianka knew the woman didn’t have much life left.

Dottore approached and leaned over her. “Good morning,” he greeted loudly. “How are you feeling today? Are you in pain?”

The woman didn’t answer. Maybe she hadn’t heard him at all. The Doctor tried a few more times to elicit a reaction, but unintelligible gibberish was all he got. Seeing that his words were not producing the desired results, he set about checking her pulse, blood pressure, sugar levels, and other parameters. A complete lack of response from the patient was disturbing. Only the movement of her chest indicated that she was alive at all. At one point, her eyes landed on Bianka’s face. She shuddered and instinctively hid behind Mudry.

After a few minutes, Dottore left the woman alone and, with a movement of his head, ordered the other two to leave the room with him. When they were back in the corridor, he closed the door. “It doesn’t look promising.”

“This condition has been going on for several days now,” Mudry informed. “It’s getting worse; I think it has at most a few, maybe a dozen days left.”

Dottore muttered thoughtfully. “In that case, I think there’s no point in dragging this out any longer.”

Mudry nodded, agreeing with the Harbinger’s view. Bianka shifted her gaze from one man to the other.

“Shall I deal with this now?” Mudry asked.

“No, I’m going to need Ayaz, and he has some soldiers to enhance today. We will settle this tomorrow at noon when we will both be free.”

“As you wish. Now let me report on the rest of the round.”

They both started walking unhurriedly towards the exit, Mudry informing him about the status of the other test subjects. Bianka stayed a few steps behind, a strange anxiety gripping her soul. She didn’t like the previous exchange of words; there was something bad hidden in it.

As soon as Mudry left to wash the nursing trolley, she approached Dottore, who had already started to ascend the ramp. “What were you talking about down there? What’s going to happen to that woman?”

The Doctor glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, then turned back. “Test subject number 0726 has exhausted its usefulness. No further research or experiments can be carried out, and the subject is already close to death. Therefore, there is no point in sustaining it any longer.”

Bianka stepped back as if she had been kicked by an electric current. His voice was so cold, so… clinical. No one would have thought that they were talking about a living, feeling human being.

“Wait, but what does that actually mean? You don’t want to starve her to death, do you?!” Hysteria began to creep into her voice.

Dottore eyed her, his gaze chastising. “Don’t be so dramatic; nothing like that will happen. There is no sense in maintaining or prolonging the subject’s suffering, so we will hasten its death tomorrow.”

Bianka’s legs barely managed to support her weight. How could he utter those terrible words so casually? His face was devoid of all emotion. How many lives must have ended at his hand for death to make no impression on him?

“Are you going to just… kill her?”

They reached the hall, the light of the fluorescent lamps glaring at them. Dottore furrowed his brow. “I wouldn’t call it that. No one’s going to slaughter or slit the subject’s throat. It’ll just get one injection, and that’s it; it won’t even know when it’s fallen asleep.”

“Stop referring to her as some kind of object!" she yelled, standing in his way. Seven, who was still working at the grader, shot a curious look in their direction. “She’s a living being, and you can see she’s in pain! Can’t you at least give her that little bit of humanity?!”

The Doctor’s face took on a truly morose expression. He put his hands behind his back and looked down at her. “You see, Bianka, that’s your biggest problem. You have too much empathy. The moment these people end up in my laboratory, they become my property. I told you they were all criminals once. This patient, if you insist on that name so much, killed her ten-year-old son in a fit of rage. Do you think she deserves a pardon?”

Bianka hesitated. It was hard for her to imagine this old, ailing woman murdering her own child. If Dottore was telling the truth, she did indeed deserve to be punished. But would Bianka wish such a terrible sentence on anyone? She hesitated, thinking of a good argument.

The Doctor, however, preceded her. “Do you know what the Black Death is?”

Bianka nodded her head. “Of course. It’s a deadly disease in the course of which black patches appear on the skin. Within a few days of the first symptoms appearing, the patient dies of respiratory failure. The Black Death used to decimate whole populations, especially children, but since the invention of the vaccine, the recovery rate has increased significantly. At the House of the Hearth, everyone had to undergo the vaccination.” She shuddered at the thought of the long needle. It was around that time that her phobia was born.

Dottore hummed. Despite the tense atmosphere, he seemed satisfied with her statement. “And do you know who created the vaccine?”

Bianka lowered her head, trying to remember if she had ever heard of this man. However, there was a void in her mind.

“Unfortunately, I don’t know,” she admitted, furrowing her eyebrows. “It’s a bit strange that I don’t know such an important piece of information. After all, this achievement was very important; it helped save many lives.” She lifted her gaze. Dottore was looking at her with a raised eyebrow and half-closed eyes. Was it just her imagination, or did he straighten up a little? Then it dawned on her. “You? You created it?”

“Indeed,” he replied. “Some thirty years ago, Her Majesty instructed me to find a way to eradicate the Black Death. Mudry and I undertook this task. It turned out to be more difficult than we thought, as the pathogenic bacteria are easily transferred between individuals and are resistant to many bactericides. So, we decided that a better option was to produce a vaccine. And, as you know yourself, it worked.” He leaned closer. “Now let’s return to the matter at hand: do you know who I tested the first versions of the medicine on?”

The answer was obvious. Dottore saw the understanding in her eyes; without waiting for her words, he continued, “After the initial tests on mice, we transferred the research to humans. The first few attempts were unsuccessful, but the subject number 0726 managed to combat the disease. Look how fascinating it is: this woman ended up here after murdering her son, but thanks to her sacrifice, she managed to save hundreds of other children who would otherwise have died from the fluid collecting in their lungs. Despite what I told you, would you rather she rotted in a cell forgotten by all while the Snezhnayans continued to die without hope of a cure?”

It was hard to argue with his words. What could she say to convince him? Deep down, she knew it was impossible. Still, she couldn’t shake that awful feeling of wrongness and anguish.

She puffed with frustration. “I understand your thinking; I even partly agree with it. But is there really no other way to conduct experiments? One that doesn’t involve so much suffering? What we are doing now is just…evil.”

Dottore tilted his head, looking at her with a strange glint in his eyes. Finally, he snorted and shook his head. “Evil? Oh, Bianka, how naïve you are…”

“What do you mean?”

Instead of answering, he passed her and walked towards her studio.

“Come, I want to show you something,” he said enigmatically. With little choice, she followed. When they entered the lab, he took from the shelves several filled vials and placed them on the countertop in front of her. “Do you know what these are?”

Bianka frowned. “Test tubes with toxins and poisons.”

“And can you tell me what toxins and poisons are used for?”

She pressed her lips. These patronising questions were starting to annoy her. “I’m not stupid; I created them myself.” She pointed to the first vial. “This one prevents blood coagulation, causing internal haemorrhaging, and this one paralyses muscles, leading to suffocation. That one—"

“So, generalising, they are used to kill, yes?” With a slight hesitation, Bianka nodded. “Earlier, you suggested that killing is bad.”

Bianka froze, already suspecting where this conversation was going. “Wait—"

“So, being fully aware that you create poisons that are used to kill, do you think you are a good person or a bad person?”

“It’s not like that!” she tried to defend herself. “I only produce them. I don’t use them on people.”

Dottore barked out a rasp laugh. “But you pass them on to the soldiers who use them to kill. The fact that you are not the one pouring the poisons into the victims’ drinks doesn’t diminish your guilt.” He cast a stern look at Bianka, whose face was getting paler and paler with each word. “Listen to me carefully now. It may not have occurred to you yet, but we both belong to an organisation that will stop at nothing to achieve its goals. Both we and our actions are seen as evil by society. No one who is a member of the Fatui is a good person. You, me, a random officer, an ordinary soldier… We all lie, plot, and kill to get what we want. This is the nature of the Tsaritsa’s subordinates, and it will never change.”

Bianka listened to his words, weakness and sadness attacking her from all sides. She may have known this all along, but she refused to let the truth enter her consciousness.

“I could end here, but I think we need to clarify something,” he continued. “I am not some sadist; I do not enjoy inflicting pain and suffering on common people and my test subjects. I am only pursuing a mission I set myself. A long time ago, I made a promise that nothing would be able to stop me. Therefore, I have rejected the beliefs and morals that guide most of the world. I don’t care if what I do is wrong or right. Thanks to this, I have achieved more than anyone else; no one has as much scientific knowledge and achievements as I do! My goal is to discover the secrets of this world and to create a human whose strength is equal to that of the gods themselves. Your task is to help me fulfil it. The sooner you accept this, the less doubts will plague you in the future.”

Bianka looked at him with defeat. It hurt to hear. It hurt to even think about. But he was right. Even if she was trying to be a good person, even if she did everything right, there was a shadow of evil in her, in all humans, that she could never escape.

She lowered her head. “I understand.”

The Doctor sighed. When their gazes crossed again, there was not a trace of his previous anger, only weariness. Had she been bolder, she would even say that she saw the same sadness that now filled her soul.

The man placed his hand on her head. “Each of us has to pay a price for what we’ve learned. If it is any consolation, I also used to think like you.” He took his hand and headed for the exit. “Go help Seven with the grader. I know he’s been eavesdropping; if he goes on like this, he’ll never finish. Working helps get emotions under control and clear one’s mind. Trust me, I know this from my own experience.”

That said, he left the room, leaving the door open.

Bianka breathed deeply and looked at the table. Kurage was listening to the conversation, his ears standing on alert. She walked over to him and stroked his head a few times. Then, she went out into the corridor, leaving him on the table. She needed time to sort out the rushing thoughts.

Together with Seven, they finished working on the machine. The amount of cables, gears, and levers filling its interior was confounding. At one point, her hand got so entangled in said cables that Seven had to cut them and then glue them together with insulating tape. But while the job helped her put her thoughts in order, it didn’t rid her of the nagging sense of hopelessness.

****

After lunch, Fripon was getting ready to feed the patients. This, along with cleaning the rooms, was part of his duties.

Bianka hesitated for a long time but finally approached him. “Could I come downstairs with you, Fripon? I have one thing to do there.”

His eyes flashed. “Is it a matter that requires subtler action?” he said conspiratorially, leaning towards her.

Bianka forced a smile and shook her head. “Nothing of the sort; I’m afraid it’s a rather dull matter.”

Fripon frowned but quickly smiled again. “That’s all right. We have to do boring things most of the time, but it only makes us appreciate the more beautiful moments of our lives.”

Bianka blinked, surprised by his wise words. Well, for Fripon, the “more beautiful moments” are probably when he can mischief and turn the lab upside down. But still.

This time, her smile was genuine. “Thank you. If you need me, I’ll be there to help you.”

Fripon giggled and set off for the basement, whistling carelessly. She followed him.

Just as she began to follow, a voice spoke behind her. “Where are you going? There’s nothing to do there today.”

Bianka sighed and turned around, facing the Doctor. He glared at her with a slight reprimand as if he didn’t wish for her to go to the deepest level of the laboratory for a second time. She, however, didn’t give up.

“It’s nothing, you don’t have to worry,” she assured him, her voice calm and resigned. “I promise we’ll be right back up.”

Dottore furrowed his brows. “I don’t like it when you hide something from me. Tell me why you want to go down there, or I’ll find you a job upstairs.”

Bianka sent him an angry look but didn’t argue. She didn’t have the strength for it. “I want to help that patient get cleaned up.”

The Harbinger’s suspicion turned to consternation. “Clean up?” he repeated in a softer voice. “What for?”

“This woman may die tomorrow, but she’s still alive now,” she said forcefully, avoiding eye contact. “She’s too weak to get out of bed by herself. I believe everyone has the right to die with dignity, regardless of past mistakes, and she certainly wouldn’t want to pass away in her own filth.”

Bianka didn’t look at Dottore, not wanting to engage in any discussion. She had already made up her mind and nothing would change her plans.

His sigh carried across the empty hall like an echo.

“You will see that by doing so, you will only deepen your grief,” he warned. “But, if that’s what you want, I won’t stop you. You’ll learn anyway, sooner or later.”

Bianka didn’t honour him with a reply. Turning away, she set off to catch up with Fripon. She stopped, however, when his footsteps resounded behind her. She looked at Dottore with a raised eyebrow.

“You won’t be able to carry her to the couch by yourself, and Fripon is unlikely to help you with that,” he explained, shrugging.

Bianka agreed, albeit not gladly.

The three of them descended the ramp (Fripon being extremely careful not to make any suspicious moves that might indicate any malicious intent). While the boy took care of distributing meals and feeding through the stoma of those who were unable to eat on their own, Bianka and Dottore brought a recliner made of waterproof material into the old woman’s room. When they stepped inside, the patient was asleep. However, their steps woke her up; she opened her eyes and looked at them with an absent gaze.

Bianka hesitated. Wasn’t her plan actually quite awkward? She glanced out of the corner of her eye at Dottore, seeking his support. He, however, stared at her expectantly.

“It was your idea, so you deal with it,” he said.

‘Alright, so your help is out of the question,’ she thought, taking a reassuring breath. She approached the old woman. “Good morning.” She cursed how her voice wavered.

The woman didn’t reply.

Bianka cleared her throat. “I would like to help you wash up. Do you agree to this?”

The patient still didn’t show in any way that she heard, and Bianka hesitated, unsure how she should proceed.

“Don’t bother,” Dottore muttered. “It’s possible that she doesn’t even understand you. Let’s just move her.”

Bianka disapproved of the idea, but she was running out of options.

They put the recliner next to the bed and lowered it so that it was slightly below the mattress before moving the woman onto it. She finally let out a moan but didn’t try to struggle, at least. Having lifted the recliner, Bianka and Dottore shifted it under the room’s small showerhead. Fortunately, the woman was only wearing simple pyjamas, so undressing her was not a problem.

“I’ll leave you now,” Dottore broke the silence. “You should be able to manage on your own. I’ll check on Fripon; see if he is trying to drown someone with the soup.” Bianka might have laughed at his concerns if they were in a less serious situation. She nodded instead. “Call me when you’re done; I’ll be nearby.”

Bianka didn’t turn around as he left the room. Without hesitating, she grabbed the shower nozzle from the wall and turned the water on, checking if it was the right temperature. Once she was satisfied, she began to gently douse the woman’s legs so as not to frighten her. The patient flinched slightly, but her breathing was calm. Perhaps she felt that Bianka had no ill intentions towards her, or perhaps she was only afraid in the presence of the Harbinger. It didn’t really matter. Bianka continued to pour a light stream over her body, watching the water disappear between the grating’s bars on the floor.

“Did that demon go?”

Bianka almost let go of the shower head. She looked at the patient’s face, her eyes round with surprise. The woman still didn’t appear to be fully conscious but was looking more or less in her direction.

“Could you repeat that?” Bianka stammered.

The woman sighed as if it took her a lot of effort to speak. “Are we alone?”

Bianka slowly nodded.

The woman breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s good. I can’t stand it when he’s around.”

“Are you talking about Lord Dottore?” Bianka asked, taking the sponge in her hand.

A strong shudder ran through the woman’s body. “Lord, what a joke. This is a monster in human skin.” Bianka didn’t try to defend him; she knew he was far from a saint. “He hasn’t even a shred of pity or mercy in him. His presence always means suffering. He has been coming here for so many years, along with those devils who look like him… and he pokes, touches, measures, examines… devours.”

Bianka’s stomach churned, wanting to tear herself away but also desperate to hear more. She wanted to know the Doctor’s nature, even if it was cruel and terrifying. And besides… she felt that it had been a long time since this woman had been able to talk to anyone.

“I was convicted when I was forty years old…” the woman continued as Bianka washed away sweat and dead skin.

The admission made Bianka freeze – she must have been a test subject for several decades now. It was a miracle that she had survived here for so long. Or a curse…

“I was brought down here and locked up. I haven’t seen the sun, snow, or the aurora since, and my hair hasn’t been tousled by the wind. Just those four bare walls, glaring light, and bland food. And the pain, oh yes, the ever-present pain…”

The woman broke off, furrowing her brows. The memories she was forced to relive must have been very difficult for her. Bianka waited patiently. Bianka had almost finished washing her but didn’t turn off the water. She would stay until the end, until she heard everything that was meant for her ears.

“I still remember my son, my child…” she continued; her breathing was getting heavier. “Sometimes I hear the cries of other children… poor things, doomed from the start…”

“Children?” Bianka interrupted, frowning. She had never seen people of Fripon’s age here.

The woman didn’t hear her. “Every time I was pricked and examined, every time I hallucinated because of the fever, I thought of my son. And I knew that this was my punishment for what I had done to him. I never tried to fight because that was the only way I could hope for redemption. Maybe the suffering and despair I felt half of my life would allow me to see him again someday.”

Bianka’s gaze grew misty as she tried to hold back her tears. How much suffering had this place seen? How many people had lost their lives? And the deaths of how many others had she herself been guilty of?

“It won’t be long now,” the woman said with strength. “My body is already weak, and my mind is sinking further and further into darkness. I used to think, I hoped, that this demon would die first; after all, he wasn’t so young anymore, either… But while my face got marred with wrinkles and my joints twisted more and more, he still looked the same. That’s when I realised that I would be the one to leave first.” When she looked at Bianka, her eyes lit up in sudden clarity. “It may seem depressing that I wish for death, but if you had stayed here as long as I and experienced what I did, you would know the feeling too.”

It was indeed a moving story. But Bianka understood. Or at least as much as one who had never been locked in a cell for decades of their life could.

If she hadn’t been so immersed in her thoughts, she would have noticed that the woman was watching her closely. “Do you work here?”

Slightly surprised, Bianka confirmed with a nod of her head. “I am the Doctor’s subordinate. His personal assistant.”

The woman muttered thoughtfully. Silence descended, broken only by the sound of gushing water. Bianka reached over to switch off the shower.

“You’re not like them,” the patient remarked suddenly.

Bianka stopped halfway. She clenched her hand into a fist and withdrew it. “What do you mean?”

The woman licked her lips as if pondering the answer. “They are cold and heartless; human suffering is nothing for them. You are not like that. You have empathy and a good heart.”

Bianka snorted, smiling with clenched lips. “You don’t know me. Maybe I’m actually evil to the bone, and now I’m just pretending.”

“And what would you gain out of it? This ‘pretence’ in front of some pathetic, sickly murderer?”

Bianka squirmed – the woman was right.

“Listen to me, child. This place has been my home for a very long time, but I remember the outside world. I also remember that I was pretty good at reading people, their intentions, and their personalities. You know what love and altruism are. You remind me of a spark in the darkness – surrounded by gloom, but it is precisely the dark that shows your radiance.” Suddenly, she grabbed Bianka’s forearm, desperation cloaking her eyes. Bianka recoiled. “I don’t know who you are or what your destiny is, but you must promise me one thing. Swear that no matter what life puts in your path, you will not lose that spark.”

Astonishment took over Bianka’s mind. This frail woman, to whom death was creeping like a hunting sabrelion, wasn’t completely broken and still had the presence of mind to force her to make a promise. Growing up in the Hearth, it was repeated time and time again that a dying person’s wish is sacred. Bianka couldn’t just say no and forget.

“I promise,” Bianka said, a lump forming in her throat.

The woman calmed down; she took a breath and let go of her forearm.

“Bianka.”

They both froze in sudden terror, hearing Dottore’s voice in the doorway. He stared at her, his gaze curious. Somewhere nearby, she heard the stomping of Fripon’s little feet.

“Have you finished yet?” he said with urgency. Bianka hesitated. She glanced at the woman, but her interlocutress seemed to have disappeared and retreated into her own mind, leaving only a wrinkled shell.

She nodded, turning off the water supply.

Dottore stepped inside. “I’ll help you wipe her up and move her back to the bed.”

It didn’t take long. A few minutes later, they were already leaving the room. Bianka shot the woman one last sad look. The patient was gazing at her with a strange calmness. Perhaps the promise and the knowledge that there is someone else in this world guided by compassion and honour brought her relief. Perhaps something else.

Bianka turned and walked out into the corridor without another word.

The trip back passed in silence. Even Fripon seemed to sense the seriousness of the situation and said nothing. When they found themselves in the main hall, Dottore glanced at his watch. “It’s already late. If you want, you can go back to your room.”

Bianka nodded, not having the strength to continue working; she needed some rest. She headed towards the exit, throwing Dottore and Fripon a brief “Good night.”

“Wait a moment; I’d like to ask you something.”

Bianka stopped and turned, raising her eyebrows questioningly.

Dottore stood with his hands folded behind his back. “Did she tell you her name?”

It took a second for Bianka to understand the question, and when she did, she drew in a loud breath. She had been so immersed in her own thoughts and busy listening to the woman’s story that she had not even asked her name! Should she run back downstairs and rectify this mistake? No, Dottore wouldn’t allow her to do so.

He hummed, taking her silence as an answer. “It’s better this way, Bianka,” he reassured her. Tried to. “You can’t create a bond with them. The less you know them, the lesser your pain will be.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting a new wave of emotions. When her throat wasn’t constricted anymore, she spoke again, “Dottore, I would also like to ask you a question.”

Dottore raised his head and murmured as a sign that he was listening.

She swallowed. At first, the question didn’t want to pass her lips, but she had to ask. She forced herself to look at him. “Are there any children down there?”

The sudden tension in his muscles and the prolonged silence were answers enough. Something inside her snapped. By sheer force of will, she restrained the great gulp that clogged her throat and threatened to plunge her into complete despair and left the laboratory.

The ascent to her flat had never before been so draining. In a strange trance, she washed up, changed her clothes, and hid under the duvet. Having turned off the lamp, she gazed out of the window, watching the twinkling lights of the distant stars and the dark expanse of the night sky, aware that not everyone would enjoy the view. Despite her exhaustion, sleep eluded her for many more long hours.

****

Her walk into the laboratory the next day resembled that of a man on death row. Bianka knew she was safe, knew nothing would happen, yet it still felt like she was about to be executed. A profound exhaustion coated her like resin, transforming slowly into a hard amber. She had only slept for three hours and had no idea how she was going to stay up all day.

In the main hall, everyone was immersed in their work – Erva in reading the Doctor’s notes on the Ruin Machines, Seven in moving crates of spare parts, Fripon mopping up a stain on the floor (his actions, however, had an opposite result – the stain kept getting bigger instead of disappearing). None of them even looked at Bianka. And that’s not all; they downright avoided her gaze. Only Ayaz, who had just emerged from the corridor, waved his hand at her.

“Ah, there you are, good,” he greeted her. “Dottore instructed me to find you a job while he’s busy. Have you ever been in an operating theatre before?” She shook her head. “In that case, we’ll go there and prepare it for today’s procedures. It’s a good time for you to start familiarising yourself with that place. It won’t be long before you start accompanying us during surgeries.”

Her unbridled curiosity poked its head out of its cavern. Assisting with operations and seeing a living person from the inside could be an interesting experience. Though it would be better if the one being operated on wouldn’t be another “patient,” but a full-fledged member of the Fatui. Maybe a soldier? Sometimes, after major battles, when many wounded were returning to the palace, a few of them were brought to the laboratory to relieve the medics and nurses in the infirmary.

The two of them headed there where Ayaz led her to one of the rooms. Inside, they decontaminated the instruments, cleaned the table, and checked the supplies to make sure Dottore wouldn’t run out of saline, gloves, or surgical thread in the middle of surgery.

“Are there many operations scheduled for today?” Bianka asked, wanting to occupy her thoughts.

Ayaz hummed. “Something happens here every day. There’s always a soldier to be enhanced, a wounded person in need of treatment, or a test subject to be experimented on. Today, there will be a post-mortem and three enhancements; maybe we’ll get a crushed arm, internal bleeding, or corrosion too, if that troop that’s doing the exploration of the Abyss comes back.”

Bianka didn’t reply. She shuddered as if a cold gust of wind had gotten under her blouse.

Not long after they had finished and returned to the hall, Dottore emerged from the basement. Mudry was nowhere to be seen. He walked towards her, though she paid no attention to him, busy with arranging the tools at the workbench. ‘Just instruments and tables everywhere,’ she thought. ‘The human body is indeed more like a machine than one might think.’

She didn’t manage to hold back the slight tension when she felt his hand on her shoulder, its warmth penetrating even through the glove.

“Did Ayaz take care of you as I asked him to?” Dottore’s low, vibrating voice only deepened her weariness.

“We have prepared the operating theatre,” she replied, her voice dispassionate. Dottore let out a satisfied murmur, drawing circles on her neck with his thumb. She tilted her head so that she spoke in his direction but wasn’t looking him in the eye. “Does your presence here mean that it’s done?”

His thumb stopped. “Your hypothesis is correct,” he said after a moment’s silence.

Having heard this, it was a surprise that she felt absolutely nothing. No sadness, anger, or weakness. Her body and mind were numb, as if she were merely an observer, watching from afar events that didn’t concern her.

Dottore fell silent but didn’t walk away. She waited for his next move. When nothing indicated his intention of breaking the silence, she said, “You have something else to say. Go on, let it out.”

Dottore shifted from one foot to the other. He squeezed her shoulder. “She told me to send you her greetings. All the best for A Spark in the Darkness; remember your promise.”

Bianka closed her eyes, leaning against the tabletop. She stopped her lower lip from trembling and, after a few seconds, which might as well have been hours, managed to lift her eyelids and return to work.

Dottore moved closer, the scent of mint and resin enveloping her. “Ask one of the segments to find you a job, will you?” he muttered in her ear. “I’ll be busy for a while now, but then, I could use your help in the atrium.”

Bianka straightened up, flexing her muscles. “Busy, huh?” she snorted as if she had heard a bad joke. “With what? The post-mortem?”

If the silence that fell at that moment had mass, it would have compressed all the gathered and left a huge crater in its wake. A great disgust gripped her throat. She swallowed so as not to vomit straight onto the table. The hand in which she held a wrench began to tremble.

Then, her revulsion turned into fury. She raised her hand and threw the tool with all her might, leaving an indentation in the tabletop. A loud bang caused the segments to freeze. Three heads turned towards them, shock evident in their eyes.

Before Dottore could stop her, Bianka shook off his hand and quickly stepped towards the passage to the atrium. “I have to leave for a while; I’ll be back soon.”

Her voice was as sharp as a knife. Erva and Seven called after her, but she didn’t stop. She grabbed the mask kept on the shelf by the door and went out into the corridor, letting herself break into a run.

She had enough! Why did her life have to be so full of contradictions and moral dilemmas? She wanted to help people in need, yet she had to create poisons that made the victims die in agony. She had a lot of compassion and empathy, but she had to assist with heartless experiments and be deaf to cries and pleas for mercy.

Sometimes, Bianka dreamt of a quiet life somewhere in the provinces with her family, but her only family was the hated and unwanted Fatui. Her fate had been decided long ago when she lost her parents and ended up in the House of the Hearth. She didn’t wish for it, she didn’t want it! She had enough, enough, enough!

Having reached the main hall, she ran to the arena. She had to give vent to the emotions that were gripping her, and mindlessly hitting a training dummy seemed like a good solution. She passed two confused soldiers who started shouting after her, something to turn back, but Bianka didn’t listen.

Finally, she found herself in front of a massive double door. With a decisive movement, she pushed them hard and stepped into the arena. Even blinded by emotion and tears, she was aware of the glaring emptiness so unusual for this place. In fact, she only saw one person training alone away from the entrance. Perfect, all the better.

She marched straight towards the small, separate area where practice weapons and puppets were stored and dragged one of them into the middle of the arena. Having placed it in the correct position, she began to deliver powerful kicks. With each blow, the puppet moved slightly, sometimes falling to the sand. Bianka picked it up, set it again, and kicked it further, thinking of all the injustice that had happened to her.

The first blow was for her parents, whom she had lost so long ago that she couldn’t even remember their faces. The next for the chance of a happy, peaceful future lost with their passing. Another one for the Fatui, who found her and took her under their wing, preventing her from choosing her own path in life. She beat, recalling the day she’d been forced to leave her friends and everything she knew, the rough beginnings as the Second Harbinger’s assistant, their bickering, until she reached the present day and the death of the old woman.

Her legs’ muscles began to tremble, her breathing became laboured and the sweat ran down her forehead, pricking her eyes, but she still couldn’t get enough. Finally, she abandoned her strong kicks and threw herself at the dummy with a furious scream, pummelling it with her fists, pushing and jerking.

When all the energy finally left her, Bianka leaned her head against the dummy’s chest. Her fury and hatred had eased, making room for a nagging sadness. This time, she didn’t try to hold back the tears that gathered in the centre of her eye before dripping slowly and running down the inside of her mask. She wanted to go back to her room, lie down in bed, and fall asleep for another thousand years. However, her legs didn’t budge. She didn’t even have the strength for that. Maybe she should just lie down here, on the sand, and—

“You’re kicking too low. You need to aim higher.”

Bianka flinched as if an electric current had passed through her body. She turned in the direction from where the firm voice came. It was the other warrior who had turned their attention to her. She was so immersed in her own despair that she had completely forgotten the presence of the stranger. Tilting back her mask, she rubbed her eyes and turned her gaze on him…

…or rather at her, for they were a woman. She wore no armour and instead a white tunic that ended with a short skirt. The tunic was girded with a wide leather belt dyed blue, which emphasised her narrow waist. Between the skirt and her high boots, a patch of bare skin peeked through. The passage to the training ground was closed at the moment, but Bianka wondered how the woman was able to endure the low temperatures anyway.

She shifted her gaze to her face. The stranger wore no make-up, and her complexion was marked by the first signs of wrinkles. However, they didn’t warp her; on the contrary, they emphasised her austere beauty. She wore her long black and white hair in a braid so as not to disturb her exercise. Her eyes, white with a faint hint of light blue, bore into Bianka, sending her a sharp, commanding stare. From the way she was holding the spear, blade pointing downwards and the staff running under her arm and extending above her head, Bianka recognised that she had an experienced, fearless warrior before her.

“What was that?” Her question may not have been the height of eloquence, but she was too sullen and exhausted to get anything more out of herself.

The woman came closer, looking at her with reprimand. “Higher. Then, you’ll kick the puppet even further.”

Bianka frowned and turned away from her. “I’m sorry, I don’t have the strength or will right now for—"

The woman grabbed Bianka’s arm and jerked forcefully, then, using her weapon, undercut and knocked the researcher down onto her stomach. Bianka spat out the sand that had entered her mouth, the woman’s knee pressing on her back and a hand clad in a long glove holding her head to the ground. The cold metal of the spear stung her neck.

“You won’t have the strength and will during a real fight too?” The woman’s voice was truly icy. “In battle, you wouldn’t survive even five seconds, not to mention that blatant insubordination could endanger your comrades as well. Your job is to listen to commanders who have more knowledge and experience than you, not to whine and complain.”

A grimace of exasperation twisted Bianka’s face. Her calves pulsed from the hit, and her mask poked her cheek painfully. But she didn’t try to fight back – she had no chance of throwing her opponent off, let alone avoiding impaling herself on a blade.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” she grumbled. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that, it was inappropriate. I will be more careful in the future.”

“I applaud your ability to admit mistakes,” she replied. “It is a virtue of an honourable man.”

Finally, the pressure on her back and head eased. Bianka lifted herself with a groan, accepting the hand of the woman who helped her to her feet. She shrugged off the sand and corrected her mask while her new mentor pointed to the body of the puppet.

“Now kick again, but higher, right here.”

Bianka nodded. She assumed a fighting stance and came at the dummy. As she raised her leg higher, she lost her balance, causing her kick to lose some of its previous strength. The dummy wobbled but didn’t fall.

“Again.”

Bianka repositioned herself and delivered another punch. She kept practising until she could keep her balance and her kicks sent the puppet further and further away.

“That’s better,” the woman finally said. “You have to practice these hits every day so that they become second nature for you. Remember, determination and commitment are key to success.”

Bianka straightened up. She was exhausted but also proud of her progress. She bowed to express her gratitude. “Don’t worry, I won’t let your teachings go to waste.”

A shadow of a smile appeared on the woman’s face. She took a step closer and tilted her head slightly. “I would like to see your face. I remember you from the banquet when you fought with the Fourth Harbinger’s right hand. I didn’t manage to get a proper look at you then.” She held out her hand. “Do you mind?”

There was such an aura of confidence and calm authority surrounding her that it didn’t even occur to Bianka to refuse. She stood still as the woman reached towards the back of her head to unfasten the latch, then grabbed the beak of the mask and exposed her face. The cool air was a relief to her face, hot from exercise. She looked straight into her mentor’s eyes. The woman’s identity wasn’t important – Bianka felt she could trust her. Only Tsaritsa knew she needed someone she could feel safe with today.

As they looked at each other, something in the woman’s posture began to change. Her gaze softened, the wrinkles became more evident, and the corners of her mouth drooped. She looked older and tired as if her shoulders were being crushed by some enormous weight. She took off one glove and then touched Bianka’s cheek. It was surprisingly cold, as if she had just taken it out of the snow. Bianka sighed blissfully, feeling it cool her face.

Her behaviour didn’t amuse the woman. She sighed and spoke, “I’m sorry that you, like so many others, have to shoulder the grievances of this world. Working for the Doctor is not an easy task and brings much suffering. But, since you could endure this pain and bitter cold, you must have the desire to burn.”

Bianka swallowed.

“Then help him burn away the old world and lead people towards a better future.”

Bianka froze. Such words couldn’t have been spoken by a common person. Who was this woman? Bianka strained her mind. She spoke like someone who had travelled this world for many years and seen a lot. Her irises were so bright; was there a man whose eyes could parallel their brilliance? Despite the contact with Bianka’s warm skin, her hand seemed just as cold all the time. Was this natural? Why didn’t she shiver despite being so scantily clad? Which human had the courage to challenge the ever-present cold with such boldness?

But what if she’s not human at all?

And then, Bianka understood. The answer seemed so obvious. But she could not have known. All paintings, sculptures, and stained-glass windows depicted the queen in rich gowns and a silver, quadripartite crown, and her face was always hidden behind a veil. What a pity that no artist had ever portrayed her as a proud warrior, leading countless Fatui soldiers towards war with Celestia. Bianka wasn’t able to truly embrace what an honour it was to be able to come face to face and learn from her.

Bianka bowed to her queen, Tsaritsa, the Cryo Archon.

“As you wish, Your Majesty,” she said with respect.

Tsaritsa shifted her hand from her cheek to her head. “Go back to the laboratory, Bianka,” she instructed in a gentle tone. “I can feel the Doctor’s anxiety. Now that we are getting closer to the final battle, he needs you at his side more than ever before.”

“Of course, I will assist him to the best of my ability,” she promised.

For the first time that day, the queen’s lips curved into a gentle smile. She handed Bianka back her mask. “I believe in the sincerity of your words, and I’m glad that my Doctor has come across someone like you. Go now, and don’t stop on the way.”

Tsaritsa turned away and returned to her own training. Bianka did as she was told – she left the arena and headed towards the laboratory. There were several people wandering through the corridors. They all moved out of her way, whispering among themselves about the “Tsaritsa’s daughter.” She smiled. Now that the news of the training with Her Majesty will float around the palace, it would be even harder for her to dispel the rumour of her alleged origins. Can the gods have children at all? She’d have to ask Dottore about that; he certainly knew.

She didn’t have to look for long. The Doctor was waiting for her in the lab’s atrium, just as he had promised. He lifted his head from the partially disassembled leg of a Ruin Defender and turned towards her. The Queen was right; she espied a shadow of concern in his eyes.

Having noticed her, he sighed as if he had been holding his breath all this time. “There you are at last. You were gone for a long time; I started wondering if I should take the tablet and go looking for you. Where have you been all this time?”

“In the arena,” she replied, pulling a stool and sitting down next to him. “I needed to let out some steam.”

“I don’t doubt it. If you don’t feel the overwhelming urge to throw the tools anymore, take the screwdriver and take care of these bolts.”

Bianka obeyed. Silence fell in the room, though it was not overwhelming or uncomfortable. It felt good to be occupied with something as mundane as work – not to ponder heavy topics and have a rather grumpy but familiar and trusted… friend beside her. Yes, that was how she perceived Lord Dottore now. Their shoulders brushed from time to time as they reached for a tool or leaned over complex machine connections. Dottore didn’t flinch at the touch; it wasn’t unwelcome to her too. Who would have thought that the Second Harbinger’s lab could be so cozy?

“Hey, Dottore?” she broke the silence. The man murmured, lending her his ear. “When I was in the arena, I met a woman. She showed me how to kick to knock over an opponent.”

“Is that so?” His voice was calm. “I should probably thank her for taking some work off my hands. Was she a captain? A general?”

“You could say that. She told me a secret – that despite the cold, a fire is burning inside me. She also asked me to help you burn down the Old World and bring peace to the people who are unable to fight for it themselves.”

Dottore froze, bent over the machine’s claw. Very slowly, he tilted his head and shot her a long look. “What did that woman look like?”

The nervousness palpable in his voice made Bianka smile. Contrary to him, peacefulness was the only emotion she felt right now.

“That wasn’t all. She also told me to give you another chance. Apparently, you may need me in the future.”

Dottore rested his elbow on the tabletop and squeezed the bridge of his nose. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to control the hurricane that threatened to unleash in his head. “Tell me, how do you do it? I let you out of my sight for five minutes, and you already have to get into hot water. How do you do it that you haven’t yet been murdered, devoured, kidnapped, or drowned?”

She laughed softly. “Maybe I’m just lucky. I’m resourceful and can get myself out of any situation. Or maybe it’s just that others are afraid of your wrath and the repercussions if something were to happen to me.”

Dottore shook his head, returning to his work without a word. She understood him. Sometimes, mysteries require further research to reach a definitive conclusion.

After a few minutes, Dottore cleared his throat. “Listen to me, Bianka.” His voice became serious. “I’m sorry that today’s situation has caused you so much pain. However, I will not hide the fact that, as long as you are my assistant, circumstances like this will happen. I know that nothing I can do will help you get over it; I can only comfort you – the first time is always the worst. With time, the emotions will lessen until it becomes normal for you.”

“…I understand, Dottore. I can assure you of my loyalty. Regardless of my own thoughts, if you tell me so, I will be there to help you.”

Dottore let out a satisfied murmur. Bianka wasn’t so content. Despite the reassurances, one question still plagued her.

Does she even want the suffering and death to become a normality for her?

Chapter Text

‘Saline: twenty-eight,’ Bianka counted in her mind, writing down the number in a notebook. ‘Glucose: twenty-four. Magnesium: seven…’

“Thanks again for your help,” Erva said for the fourth time in the last thirty minutes, looking at her shyly over the pad he had been using to take notes. He was busy cataloguing and restocking a few steps away. “I really appreciate it.”

She turned to him, giving a gentle look. “It’s no problem at all. If you ever need extra hands, you know where to find me.”

Erva smiled, embarrassed, before sticking his nose back into a piece of paper. He was a good lad. Gentle, kind, and honest. Now that he was no longer hiding from Bianka, his presence and good nature were appreciated.

A hiss of the opening lift doors caught her attention, and her smile disappeared like a blown-out candle flame. She reacted this way every time something reminded her of the underground and its inhabitants. Even though several days had passed since the ill-fated day, she still couldn’t shake the sadness holding her heart in strong pincers. Fortunately, there were no signs of the hospital bed’s distinctive creaking – none of the prisoners would be subjected to the experimental procedure today.

The operations were the worst. Most of the research took place in the basement, where Dottore injected the patients with various substances, exposed them to radiation, or implanted the remains of ancient gods to discover their effects on the human body. Sometimes, however, it was necessary to look deeper, in order to make detailed observations. This was the only time a prisoner was allowed to leave their gloomy cell. However, no one considered this a luxury. It meant they were sent to the operating theatre.

Thank gods – Dottore, at least, usually put patients to sleep before examining their innards. On the rare occasions when anaesthetics could directly affect the results of an experiment, though, they had to be conscious. Those operations were punctuated with terrified screams, shrieks, and howls full of agony. Dottore never tried to silence, beat, or harass them – he let them shake in their fetters and cry as much as their souls desired instead. It was the only measly consolation the patients could hope for. More than once, Bianka could hear their screams long after it was all over.

The door on the other side of the room creaked open as Lord Dottore, dressed in a white hospital gown, walked through. “Erva, we need to replenish our supply of propofol,” he said, taking off his mask and running a hand through his hair. “The subject in cell two still doesn’t want to give up.”

Erva nodded, noting down the name of the medicine.

Dottore approached Bianka, putting his hands behind his back. “How are you feeling today?” he asked, peering into her notebook. “Do you feel overloaded with work?”

Every day since the misunderstanding, he had asked her these questions. Bianka didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but perhaps there was a microscopic possibility that Dottore felt a little guilty about the whole situation.

Invariably, she answered in the same way. “It’s all good. I like having something to do, so I have nothing to complain about.”

Dottore nodded, humming. Usually, at this point, the conversation ended, and they both went their separate ways.

This time, however, he stood by her side.

“I believe enough time has passed for you to settle into working here. Next week, you will start assisting me, Ayaz and Mudry with operations. This will be a good opportunity to gain new knowledge, and besides, it’s high time you learned what the ‘enhancement’ procedure is all about.”

Bianka shuddered and raised her gaze. Dottore waited for her reaction, carefully analysing every slightest grimace. She wanted to refuse, say that she wasn’t ready and didn’t want to take part in it. But how much could she run away like that? Dottore had made it clear where their place in the world is. Sooner or later, she would have to face her destiny.

“As you wish,” she muttered with resignation.

The Doctor squeezed her shoulder, smiling awkwardly. “I won’t be requiring your help today, so you can concentrate on your own research.”

That said, he headed for the exit. Bianka sighed and returned to the stocktaking.

‘Metamizole: thirty-six. Swabs: one hundred and sixty-seven. Syringes,’ she shuddered, ‘eighty-four...’

“You’re in a bad mood,” Erva’s concerned voice resounded right next to her ear. “Why? Is it still because of what happened a few days ago?”

After a moment’s hesitation, she gave a curt nod. The segment fell silent, his discomfort palpable. She forced a smile on her face. “You don’t have to worry about it. Time heals all wounds; the sadness will pass, and I will eventually be back to my old self.”

Unfortunately, she didn’t seem to have succeeded in changing his mind, for he replied wryly, “I am your friend, remember? I should be more supportive of you; know how to help you.”

Bianka’s eyebrows went up in surprise. She remembered Erva’s promise but didn’t think he would care so much about it. What could she say? There was no way to improve her mood in such a situation. So she remained silent.

Erva didn’t speak again. He directed his gaze to the pad, but the pen stood still in his hand. Bianka saw his restless gaze, indicative of feverish thoughts. This went on for a long moment. Then, finally, she heard a quiet gasp as if he had come up with a brilliant idea.

“You know,” he began with feigned nonchalance, “Master really has a lot of patients. Dozens of rooms and in each one a living person…”

“It’s true,” she replied tentatively.

Erva grunted, as if feeling extremely stupid all at once, and continued. “Some of them are used in experiments just once, only to last several years afterwards without any purpose. It’s a shame that they have to waste away like that.”

Bianka stopped writing. She looked at him with a mixture of surprise and suspicion. “Yes, it is indeed a waste. But that is their punishment for the crimes they have committed, is it not?”

Erva looked even more uncomfortable. He glanced behind him as if fearing that someone might overhear them.

“What I’m getting at,” he whispered, “is that some problems don’t go away on their own. Sometimes, you have to take action – move and change something in order to regain inner peace.”

Bianka froze, slowly beginning to understand what the young segment was alluding to. She couldn’t believe it. Polite, fearful Erva, insinuating something of this calibre? Was her mind misleading her?

“What…” she stammered. “What do you mean?”

Erva stopped. He lowered the pad and shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know, Bianka.” Then, he turned his head and sent her an intense, ruby-red look. “And what do I mean?”

A hot current went through Bianka’s body. She stared at Erva with bulged eyes as his face darkened. He turned abruptly and hunched his shoulders, furiously scribbling something on the paper. For a few more seconds, the stupor prevented her from moving. Finally, she shook her head and concentrated on writing down the names of the drugs.

This was a crazy idea. Only an absolute fool would try to put it into practice, so she threw it out of her thoughts as quickly as possible.

The idea, however, kept coming back. It attacked her when she was combining dangerous reagents, haunted her when she was helping Fripon clean floors dirty from liquids of dubious origin, and poked its ugly head out when they were eating meals together. With all her might, she tried to forget, but the more she resisted, the tighter it clamped down on her mind.

‘By the Seven Archons, Bianka, that’s probably the most idiotic of all the idiotic ideas you’ve ever come up with,’ she thought, panic-stricken. It would require so much preparation –proper reconnaissance, gathering the necessary materials, and coming up with an absolutely perfect plan. And if Dottore heard even a mention of her plot in passing, she would be caught in a jiffy, after which she would wake up chained to the operating table as his next research subject.

From a glance, it was hopeless.

But a tiny, microscopic cell in her brain was saying something different, slowly infecting the rest of the tissue. It made her thrilled. Excited. Alive, finally.

But even after days of battling with her thoughts, a dose of uncertainty remained. She needed one last boost, something to push her to enact a plan doomed from the start. And she got it. It came to her in the form of pain-filled screams and frantic howls.

She listened to the screams, remembered them, tucked them deep in her heart, never to forget, knowing then that she would do it. She would, even if it took her months, even if she was forced to hide her plan from the whole world.

And, if she had to, she would even sacrifice her own life to give it to another human.

****

For the next few days, Bianka watched and devised a plan, jotting down ideas in the late evenings.

Freeing one of the prisoners and getting them outside right under Dottore’s and his segments’ noses wasn’t the easiest task. The patients were closely guarded in the basement, with only one door leading there. Moreover, each of them had a tracking device, the same as her own. And even if she managed to get the patient out of the complex undetected, extremely cold temperatures, blizzards, and hordes of guards awaited them outside.

Bianka tried not to be discouraged by this. Even a completely hopeless situation could be turned to one’s advantage. She had time and intended to make the most of it.

She started with an easier part – collecting and storing everything that could be useful to the prisoner after their release. Food wasn’t much of a problem; she had access to the larder, so she could take care of that the day before the realization of her plan.

Mora was also essential. She didn’t need to part with all her wealth; the right amount to bribe guards, hole up somewhere away from the palace, or pay for a ship to another country would be enough. Hypothetically, this wouldn’t be an issue. As the Second Harbinger’s assistant, Bianka certainly earned a handsome amount.

The whole problem was that Dottore was in no hurry to pay her.

On reflection, she saw some sense in this – during her stay in Siniy Glaz, she didn’t have anywhere to spend any money, whereas at the palace, she was getting everything she could possibly need. But still.

It’s why she decided to gently raise the issue with Dottore one morning.

He didn’t hide his surprise. “What do you need Mora for? If you lack anything – clothes, reagents, or cosmetics – you can go to the quartermaster or even to me, and I’ll get it for you.”

Bianka furrowed her brows. “Why are you asking me this? I don’t think I need to report my own expenses. That money is mine, and I can do what I want with it.”

Dottore glared at her. “Since when did you become so contrary, eh?” He moved closer to her face. “Are you trying to hide something from me again?”

Bianka was prepared for this question, so she didn’t even flinch. Keeping calm, she sighed and lowered her head. “Nothing of the sort, Dottore. I just wanted to buy some light reading. I don’t have anything to read in my spare time anymore; I know all the books I brought with me by heart.”

“Oh yeah?” Dottore tilted his head. “And how would you like to get this book, hm? There are no bookshops in the palace, and the capital is a dozen kilometres away.”

“The book will arrive here the same way as the food delivered by suppliers. I gave one of them the title of the book; I just need to get the money.” She folded her arms across her chest. “All it takes is a little effort and thought to get what you want. You should know this best, no?”

The Doctor looked at her for a long time as if trying to get into her brain and see if she was telling the truth. Bianka’s heart skipped a beat, feeling the first stab of fear, though she kept a poker face.

Finally, after an unbearably long ten seconds, Dottore grunted and turned back to the table. “An awful lot of trouble with that.” He reached for a book on one of the shelves and placed it in front of her. “Here, you can read this.”

Bianka leaned over and glanced at the title – a textbook on human physiology. She was glad the anger that instantly blinded her didn’t have to be faked. She shouted, claiming that Dottore wasn’t showing her due respect. He was treating her like a child and trying to deprive her of her own damn money.

The argument that ensued was one of the biggest the Doctor’s lab had seen. An agitated Bianka returned to her room, overcome with a desire to break someone’s nose. The next morning, though, a sizeable pouch full of shiny Mora awaited her in the corridor, accompanied by a folded piece of paper saying: “I’ll sew your foul mouth if you speak to me like that again. And you can forget the anaesthetic.”

So, she got the money, but she paid for it with frazzled nerves and copious amounts of tantrums, as Dottore began to exceed all bounds of decency with his grousing.

Suitable clothing was the last point on her list. There was not the slightest chance that a weakened, ailing prisoner would survive in the cold in just pyjamas; a fleece jacket, thick trousers, and insulated boots were the bare minimum. Fortunately, exactly these items made up the standard uniform of every soldier.

The only question left was how to get it in her possession without arousing suspicion.

The palace quartermaster wouldn’t be of any help. If she approached him for a new outfit, she would certainly get one, but the cut would be for a person of her rank. She needed something common, something that would let the prisoners blend in.

After some thought, an idea began to germinate in her head. Maybe she couldn’t ask for a new coat herself, but any other Fatuus could. And it so happened that she knew one soldier who would certainly not hesitate to help her.

Later that day, she rushed to Eymen’s room. This time, too, she was greeted by his dull roommate. Without waiting for an invitation, she rushed in. “Eymen!”

The man, who was sewing on a ripped button, lifted his head and smiled. “It’s good to see you, Bianka. Would you like a cup of tea?”

“I’m sorry, but I’m quite short of time. I have a matter for you.”

She explained what she needed, hiding the real reason. She didn’t want Eymen to get into trouble because of her dangerous ideas. The less he knew, the better for him. Fortunately, Eymen didn’t ask unnecessary questions. He immediately agreed to comply with her request.

“I was going to ask for a change of clothes anyway.” He pointed to a tattered coat. “As you can see for yourself, this one is already in an agonal state.”

Suddenly, she came up with an even better idea. “You know what, why don’t you just give me this jacket? It will do just as well as a new one, and I don’t want to deprive you of what you deserve.”

After lengthy assurances that “no, it really won’t be a problem” and “stop being silly, you’re not going to parade in the palace corridors in something like that,” they came to an agreement that Bianka would collect Eymen’s old uniform tomorrow when he got a new one from the quartermaster.

After a cup of tea and some biscuits, she returned to the room and summarised her achievements to date. Food, money, and clothing. It was a good start. She couldn’t equip the fugitive with much more to keep them from drawing too much attention.

But now it was time for the more difficult part – devising a way for the prisoner to escape from the palace grounds once she got them outside. Fortunately, she had an idea. Through the window of her room overlooking the front of the palace, she noticed that every Friday, a whole retinue of carts would set off for the capital, only to return with supplies a few hours later. This could have been the pass to freedom she was looking for. If a prisoner hid in one of the carts, they could make their way unnoticed to the largest town in Snezhnaya and blend in quickly with the crowd.

She wondered if she should try to bribe one of the coachmen to increase the chances of success but abandoned the idea on second thought – Dottore had a terrible reputation, and she doubted that anyone would show enough courage to defy him, even for a lavish payoff. She didn’t even want to think about the worst possible situation, in which the carter, instead of helping, would whisper a word about her plan to the Doctor or some other high-ranking general. She had to hope (and pray as hard as she could) that the escaped patient would show enough cunning to take care of themselves on their own.

That left her with the most complicated stage of the plan – escaping the deepest parts of the laboratory.

She had so many obstacles to overcome that the feat seemed virtually impossible. Getting the prisoner out of the basements, deactivating the tracking device, avoiding the sharp eyes of the Doctor and his five segments… At the thought, she almost cowered in a corner, hid her head in her hands, and burst into the loudest tears the world had ever heard. But no, she had to be tough and brave. Only if she kept a cool head could she succeed in her mission. So, she breathed deeply and began to think.

First of all, she had to find answers to two questions: how to get the prisoner out of the underground without Dottore finding out, and which way to do it. The first looked more challenging, so she decided to leave it for last.

According to her observations, there were two exits from the basement: a ramp, which they always used to go downstairs, and a lift, which led to the operating theatre. The ramp was connected to the main hall, where segments usually swarmed, so this route didn’t raise high hopes. There were usually only Dottore, Mudry, Ayaz, and, occasionally, Erva lurking in the operating theatres. Well, “only” still sounded hopelessly much. Still, this idea seemed a tad better than a frantic dash up the ramp and hoping for a stroke of luck.

This wasn’t the end of the dilemma, however. Even if, by some inexplicable miracle, she managed to get her prisoner out of the basement, she still had to guide them through the lab and then through the rest of the palace to the exit. She was sure that if Dottore found out about this task, he would roar with laughter and give her a condescending pat on the head rather than be upset by her wild ideas.

There were also two ways to enter the lab: through the atrium into the main hall (she ruled this route out without hesitating) or via the lift connected to the palace infirmary. Another option that left much to be desired. The lift was protected by a panel, as was the entrance to the underground. She wasn’t sure if it would react to her hand, and she preferred to avoid uncomfortable questions if her tinkering set off an alarm. Assuming the more optimistic option, however (after all, some kind of providence had to favour her, right?), she still had to guide the prisoner through the infirmary. As the right hand of the Second Harbinger she had some authority; it was possible that no one would try to stop her. But what if one of the medics or nurses raised this issue with the Doctor? A casual remark or a rumour about her strange behaviour would have been enough for Dottore to immediately become suspicious.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t think of a better solution. Chewing her lip, she wrote down ideas that could make her job easier – diversions and subterfuges. However, they were more amusing than helpful and, in some cases, downright crazy. She began to seriously question her own mental state when she came up with the idea of getting Fripon to plant a bomb in the other part of the palace and attract the attention of the residents (her worries didn’t revolve around Fripon, though – she knew the segment would have agreed to her proposal without a second thought).

But then, a few days later, it became apparent that she didn’t have to exert herself that much, for the black tunnel she was walking through shone with unexpected light. Her hope was born from the misfortune of others.

Dottore had summoned her to the operating theatre as a matter of urgency. She hadn’t ever assisted him before, so excitement was filling her to the brim. However, the view that greeted her froze her to the bone.

The man on the table had horrid wounds.

Deep lacerations throughout his chest oozed a dark purple fluid, the skin around them had taken on a greyish colour and the blood vessels pulsed an unearthly glow, making him appear radioactive. And then the right side of his face was so mangled that it had completely lost its features. The eye was gone; only remnants of tissue remained.

Bianka swallowed and stepped closer, her legs weak. Her shock was so great that she didn’t even think to show fear at the sight of the syringe in Mudry’s hands.

“Where did he come from?” Bianka asked Dottore as Mudry jabbed the needle into the crying man’s vein. “He has to be one foot in the grave already.”

“One of the platoons returned from a field mission,” Dottore explained. “On the way there, they were surprised by a horde of hilichurls and a few adult rifthounds. You can see the effect.”

“Then what is he doing here? Shouldn’t the infirmary doctors take care of him?”

“The infirmary is overloaded,” Mudry said, joining the conversation, “and in such a situation, we have to take care of him.”

“If there is anything to save at all…” Dottore mumbled. “Bianka, hold here to keep the blood from flowing. Mudry, give me the suction pump.”

Despite their actions, the man’s condition was clearly deteriorating. After fifteen minutes of fruitless struggle, his heart began to slow down until he breathed his last breath.

Dottore wiped his sweaty forehead with a clean sleeve and sighed. “Nothing more would’ve been done. He had little chance of survival anyway; his case was hopeless.” He swallowed, then shouted, “Ayaz!” while Mudry busied himself with cleaning the instruments. A moment later, Ayaz stuck his head through the door, raising his eyebrows. “Take the body to the mortuary so the gravediggers can take care of it.”

The segment exclaimed with indignation. “I beg your pardon?! You failed to save the guy, but I’m the one who has to dispose of the corpse?!”

“Mudry and I have more patients on our hands. And, you are free, if I remember correctly.”

“What about Erva? He doesn’t have too many plans either—"

“There is a mortuary around here somewhere?” Bianka interrupted.

Dottore nodded. “What do you think we do with all the individuals who have died? They don’t evaporate into the air with their last heartbeat.” He raised an eyebrow when he noticed her curious look. “You want to go with Ayaz?” He shrugged. “If he agrees, be my guest.”

“Hey, I haven’t…” he fell silent as Bianka’s gaze lingered on him. Ayaz sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “Alright. We’ll take the deceased to the mortuary.”

Dottore helped Ayaz carry the body on the trolley. Then, Ayaz and Bianka headed out of the room and towards another door. She had always thought that there was another warehouse behind them, so the sparsely lit stone corridor gave her the creeps.

Ayaz led her into a room where, in addition to a dissecting table, there were several rows of metal doors on the wall. Having opened one of them, they both slid the body into the prepared chamber.

“That would be all,” he said. “There is not much to see here. Dottore could have carried the body himself; it wouldn’t have taken him much time, but as usual, he preferred to give the dirty work to me.” Bianka covered her amused smile with her hand. “Let’s get out of here; the gravediggers will come for him soon.”

“Gravediggers?” she asked. “I’ve never seen any strangers wandering around the lab.”

“Nobody ‘wanders’ around the lab,” he scoffed. “Gravediggers have a separate entrance.” He pointed to the other door in the room. “They get in here from outside, but they can’t go any further because the corridor is protected by a panel.”

Ayaz went on saying something (or rather complaining), but Bianka wasn’t listening, for she had found a third exit from the Second Harbinger’s complex. She could practically sing. It was downright perfect: it could be accessed from the operating theatre, simultaneously bypassing the guards and the Doctor’s watchful gaze. This was the prisoner’s ticket to freedom.

Though, one question remained: how to make them actually get here. The morgue was not a place one could easily visit; the only circumstance it was necessary was when a patient or a soldier died. Therefore, the prisoner she would choose had to be dead…

Or rather, they had to look like they were dead.

For an ordinary person, this task might have been an insurmountable obstacle; Bianka, however, was a poison master. A plan was already crystallising in her mind. But before she could set about implementing it, she had to do the necessary research.

Three weeks after making the dangerous decision to put the plan into action, when Dottore was in a good mood, she expressed a desire to study several plant atlases to find inspiration for new toxins. She was surprised by the enthusiasm with which he agreed to help her – he must have been extremely pleased with her willingness to gain new knowledge. So, in the evening, armed with several textbooks, atlases, encyclopaedias, and even scrolls from Dottore’s personal library, she sat at her study table.

It took her many arduous hours to study everything, but it bore fruits. She managed to find several promising plant species. After choosing one most suitable for her purpose, she placed an order the next day for a whole basket of it along with other species as a diversion. Once the plant was in her hands, she ticked off another point in the plan with a smile.

But the final, important stage of the intrigue remained. Unfortunately, it was also one of the most difficult. She already knew how to make the prisoner “dead,” but she didn’t know how to get them out from under the Doctor’s radar. Dottore had the habit of performing an autopsy on every dead patient to determine the cause of death or the effect of the experiment on changes in morphology and anatomy. She couldn’t allow a living person to be subjected to such a drastic procedure.

With each day full of ponderings leading nowhere, her stress level grew. Her skin grew paler. She lost weight. She couldn’t concentrate on even the simplest tasks, as her thoughts were filled with possible scenarios every minute. And, at night, she would wake up with a pounding heart, convinced that Dottore had discovered her intentions and was coming to punish her. What if she could never help the poor prisoners, no matter how much she prepared? What if they were destined to live many years in fear and darkness?

Dottore, perceptive as ever, noticed her despondency and deteriorating health.

“Shall we go for a little stroll?” he suggested one morning, summoning her before she could disappear into her own workroom.

Bianka raised one eyebrow but nodded, and Dottore led her along the walls of the main hall. Not counting Erva, who was working on an inventory of the machine parts, and Fripon, who was making it difficult for him by hiding cogs and bearings under the table, they were alone.

“How are you feeling today, Bianka?” he asked.

Ah, so it was just about their daily ritual. Bianka straightened up, hoping she looked confident. “Good, as always.”

This time it was Dottore’s turn to narrow his eyes. “Are you sure? You seem paler than usual.”

“It’s due to tiredness,” she explained. “I’ve been having trouble with sleeping lately. The short rest must have weakened me.”

She could tell that Dottore didn’t buy her explanation.

“Bianka,” he began, stopping, “is there something I should know?”

Bianka also stopped. “Why are you looking at me like that? Are you suspecting me of something again?”

“Maybe. The last time you behaved unnaturally, I found you sneaking off to a mountain village. Perhaps you have something on your conscience again?”

Bianka didn’t look away. Even before she started devising her plan, she considered that Dottore might eventually become suspicious. So she decided to prepare herself in advance.

“What could I possibly be up to? I have nowhere to sneak off to but the ice deserts within a few kilometres.” She sighed, massaging her forehead. “Believe it or not, Dottore, I’m not going to try to convince you again and again; I really am just a little weakened.”

The Harbinger looked at her for a long time, trying to espy even the slightest sign of hesitation or lying. Bianka remained calm, a surprisingly easy task considering she was so fatigued she didn’t even have the strength to worry about his inquisitiveness.

After a few seconds, Dottore’s gaze softened. “You really don’t look well. Maybe these are the first signs of a developing illness. When did you start feeling like this?”

Bianka frowned. “About two weeks ago.”

“In that case, we should check that. The transmitter didn’t show anything, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. I’d like to examine you to make sure that your symptoms are only due to overexertion. Do you have time now?”

She couldn’t object. Any resistance would be pointless and would only make Dottore more suspicious. So, together, they headed for the atrium, where there was a scanner similar to the one in Siniy Glaz.

After ten minutes of idly standing half-naked inside the machine, she was dressing again while Dottore reviewed her results.

“It looks like there is indeed nothing wrong with you,” he announced. “Excellent, it would be highly undesirable to introduce pathogenic germs into the laboratory. Not only would they make life difficult for you and me, they could also cause infections among the test subjects.”

Bianka frowned. “Infections?”

“Yes. Our experiments require unchanging conditions, and an illness could significantly disrupt the final results. Not to mention the possibility of premature death of the subject. Such severe infections could prove disastrous.”

An idea suddenly dawned in Bianka’s mind. Her thought was not yet clear, but she had a strong feeling that Dottore’s words were important.

“Severe… Like the Black Death, for example?” she said.

Dottore flinched, as if the very thought filled him with disgust and anxiety. “Spit it out, Bianka! There is no option for the Black Death to be in the palace. The last areas of its occurrence are far to the west, and every soldier is compulsorily tested for the presence of bacterial antigens in their blood.”

“But if it was…?”

“If it was what?” he snapped. “Introduced?”

Bianka shrugged.

Dottore stared at her. “Because of its contagious nature and the fact it quickly leads to respiratory failure, sometimes in mere hours after the appearance of spots on the skin, such bodies should be disposed of as quickly as possible to prevent an outbreak in the lab. And the palace, for that matter.”

Bianka’s heart pounded in her chest, her body quivering from excitement. Such bodies should be disposed of as quickly as possible… That is, immediately after death, without taking the time for further examinations. Yes! Yes. She had to start devising the plan immediately—

Dottore put his hand to her forehead. “You’re shivering. Are you cold? You don’t seem to have a fever, but I could be wrong.”

Bianka cursed internally. She was so excited about the possible solution to her dilemma that she had forgotten where and in whose company she was. Emotions made her shiver and her cheeks flare up.

“As you know yourself, my scanner cannot detect every anomaly.” He turned away and started shuffling through one of the desk drawers. “I should also take your blood. We’ll make sure that nothing—"

Bianka jumped off the stool abruptly. “You know what, Dottore, I feel much better already! I have to go now; that concoction I left on the burner last night should be ready. I’ll see you later!”

Bianka ran out of the atrium before Dottore had time to react. He shouldn’t be surprised; after all, her fear of needles was almost legendary.

****

It was a beautiful morning. The heavy snow clouds had vanished, allowing the frail sun to cast a little glow on the pearly-white desert. Unfortunately, its rays couldn’t illuminate the underground, which was drowning in darkness.

Bianka followed Mudry to do a daily round. She was experienced enough that he allowed her to take care of some patients on her own.

“Which side do you choose today?” he said over his shoulder. Bianka pretended to think about it.

“The right side,” she replied.

“Perfect. You can take care of all of them except 9428; it’s too aggressive. If there are any problems, don’t try to deal with them yourself, just call or come for me.”

Mudry headed for the cells located on the left side of the corridor while Bianka moved in the opposite direction. Her choice wasn’t accidental. Having completed her plan, all that remained was for her to select a suitable prisoner. It couldn’t be someone old or weakened, as they would not be able to withstand the cold and get to the capital on their own. Those people, unfortunately, she could no longer help. The candidate had to have relatively good physical strength, stamina, and the will to fight. It would also not hurt if they had an innate sense of cunning and shrewdness.

Fortunately, they currently had a person who met all these requirements.

Bianka unlocked the door of one of the cells and stepped inside. At the sound of footsteps, a young girl sprang from her bed. She had ended up in the Doctor’s laboratory not that long ago, so she still kept vigilant, and her body was fit. Seven claimed she belonged to a gang of Treasure Hoarders that prowled the north of the country, so cunning was in her blood.

Bianka raised her hands to show she had no ill intentions. The girl relaxed, but only a little – she knew Bianka and was aware of her more empathetic approach to patients. “What’s in store for me this time, doctor? A thousand needle pricks? Or would you rather cut me into—”

“We don’t have time for pointless conversations,” Bianka interrupted. “What’s your name?”

The girl fell silent, furrowing her eyebrows. “I don’t know, the tall guy with blue hair addressed me by some number.”

“That’s not what I mean. I want to know what your real name is. How did they call you before you fell in the Doctor’s claws?”

The patient hesitated. “My mates called me Splinter.”

“Tell me, Splinter, would you like to get out of here?”

Splinter’s eyes took on the size of tea saucers. “What do you mean ‘out of here’? Out of this cell or the lab?”

Bianka shook her head, her voice urgent. “Not just the lab. I mean out of the Zapolyarny Palace.”

“Of course I’d like to get out of here!”

Bianka hissed and put a finger to her lips. “Stop shouting like that, or the Doctor will hear us!” Splinter instantly quieted, staring at her. “I can help you escape to the capital, but you’ll have to do exactly what I tell you.”

Splinter narrowed her eyes. “Wait a minute, why do you think I should trust you? This conversation might as well be part of the Doctor’s next experiment.”

Bianka didn’t harbour a grudge against her. On the contrary, caution bode well for the mission’s success. She sighed. “You’re right, I can’t prove in any way that my willingness to help you is genuine; you have to make that decision for yourself. Either you trust me, and I’ll try to get you out of here, or I’ll leave this cell, and we’ll forget the whole conversation.”

Splinter stared at Bianka for a long time, suspicion lurking in her eyes. The researcher looked behind her – Mudry could enter here any moment.

To her delight, Splinter plopped down on the bed. “All right, so what’s the plan?”

Without hesitating, Bianka took three bottles filled with various liquids and latex gloves out of her pockets. She handed her the first bottle.

“Drink this. Now,” she instructed.

Splinter removed the cork and sniffed the colourless liquid. “What is it?”

“A solution of an alkaloid distilled from a ziziphus,” she said. “It has analgesic and soporific properties.”

“And how is that supposed to help me escape from the lab?”

“With this.” Bianka handed her a second bottle. Splinter started to open it, but Bianka stopped her. “Not now; you’ll drink this tomorrow before the morning round. It’s a catalyst that will speed up the reaction and put you into a very deep sleep.”

Splinter fell silent for a long moment, then shook her head. “I still don’t understand how this is supposed to work…”

“I won’t beat around the bush: there’s no way you’re going to get out of here alive.” Before the girl had a chance to protest, Bianka continued, “We have to trick the Doctor into thinking you’ve died. The sleep you’ll fall into will slow down your life processes. Hopefully to a low enough level that he will consider you dead. However, for the plan to have a chance of succeeding, we also need this.” She handed her a third and final vessel filled with a tarry black liquid. “It’s just ink. Before you take the catalyst, paint black dots on your body, in various places. Use gloves so you don’t get your hands dirty. Once you’re done, you need to dispose of the evidence.”

“I could throw the bottles and gloves in the latrine,” Splinter suggested, scratching her head. “Since it’s a deep hole in the ground, it’s unlikely anyone would be poking around in there.”

“Excellent, do that, and then go to bed; this remedy can work very quickly.” Bianka tilted her head, noticing the grimace on the girl’s face. “Something wrong?”

Splinter swallowed without looking Bianka in the eye. “I don’t like the uncertainty in your voice. ‘Hopefully,’ ‘for the plan to have a chance of succeeding’… Are you sure you know what you’re doing? Aren’t we actually walking straight into the lion’s mouth?”

Bianka didn’t dare speak for a while. She breathed deeply. “I don’t want to lie to you – I’ve never yet tried to free a prisoner from here against the Doctor’s wishes.” She shook her head. “I won’t force you if you prefer to drop out of the plan; it’s your life, and the final decision on what to do with it will always be yours. However, you need to know one thing. I’ve been working as the Doctor’s assistant for a few months now, and I’ve learned a few things about him. So I know that whoever ends up here as one of the test subjects will not leave the laboratory until the experiments are completed and the results are satisfactory.” She lowered her voice. “I have yet to meet a human being who has lived to that point. For that, I have seen many deaths, sometimes in agony.”

Splinter swallowed hardly, bulging her eyes. Despite the hopeless situation, perhaps she still hoped she would one day be set free, even if she had to be patient and endure the pain and humiliation that awaited her. It was not Bianka’s intention to squash that, but Splinter needed to know the position she was in.

“Are you all right, Bianka?” Mudry’s voice suddenly rang out in the corridor. “Do you need help?”

Bianka’s skin instantly broke out in goosebumps. Splinter also froze in silent anticipation.

“It’s fine, I’m finishing!” she exclaimed. “I’ll call you if I encounter a problem.” Bianka turned to Splinter, her gaze expressing haste. “Quick, Splinter, a decision!”

Splinter hesitated only a second. She drank the contents of the vial in one gulp and handed the vessel back to Bianka so as not to leave any traces. “This had better work, or I’ll beat you to a pulp.” It was an empty threat, however; she was now completely in Bianka’s hands.

Bianka left the room without a word of farewell. She couldn’t delay any longer if she didn’t want Mudry to start suspecting something.

And just in time, for she bumped into him next to the door.

“What happened?” he asked with concern. “You were there for a very long time. I began to fear that the test subject had attacked you.” He glanced at the door as if anticipating Splinter to run out of the room and pounce at them with outstretched claws.

His suspicion didn’t bode well. ‘Focus, Bianka, you’ve got to lead him astray somehow,’ she thought.

“I’m sorry to have worried you,” she said, thinking on her feet, “but I had to examine this patient thoroughly. She was complaining of severe headaches and weakness, and her eyes were watery. I wanted to make sure that it was due to stress or experiments and not the beginning of an illness.”

Her words would provide a good basis for carrying out the rest of the plan (or so she hoped). If she made Dottore and the segments anxious about Splinter’s health, they would be more inclined to believe in her sudden “death” a day later from the Black Death.

Mudry did not ask any more questions. Fortunately, he placed enough trust in her that he didn’t challenge her opinions. It was the only positive note in her life over the past few weeks – becoming finally a fully-fledged member of the laboratory.

She could not rest on her laurels, however; there was still a lot to do. She had to prepare clothes and food and leave them in a well-hidden place but close enough to the mortuary so that she could quickly pick them up when the time came. Splinter’s transmitter should be switched off the moment the others learned of her death. There was nothing she could do with her own, but with a bit of luck, no one would notice her temporary disappearance.

As soon as she got back upstairs, she set about making preparations, only interrupted when she was summoned to the operating theatre, this time to determine the preliminary results of one of the experiments and to expand her own knowledge.

However, when she entered the room, her legs almost buckled underneath her. On the table lay none other than Splinter herself, her arms and legs immobilised by leather straps.

Dottore placed one hand on her forehead while, in the other, he held a hand lamp and examined her eyes. Hearing Bianka’s footsteps, he shot her a fleeting glance. “Ah, there you are, perfect. Wait a minute, I’m almost finished.” He turned back to the terrified Splinter, whose shivers were making the table wobble. “Apparently, you felt worse today. I don’t see anything worrying, though. That’s good, we’ll be able to continue the test as planned.”

Mudry, as always assisting Dottore with operations, came over to put a mask over Splinter’s nose and mouth. It was then that the girl fully realised the situation she was in. She started yanking and shaking her head. When Dottore joined in to help hold her, she cried at full volume.

“No, leave me alone!” she shouted. Her gaze fell on Bianka, who was standing in mute horror. She bared her teeth in a furious grimace, tears flowing from her eyes. “You tra—!"

She broke off with a loud groan as Dottore grabbed her by the hair and jerked her head back. Seizing the opportunity, Mudry pressed the mask against Splinter’s face.

Bianka didn’t realise how hard she had been clenching her eyelids until she felt a strong hand on her shoulder.

“It’s all over now, Bianka, you don’t have to cower so much,” Dottore said. He tilted his head, noticing the distress on her face. “Come on, don’t fall into despair; she won’t feel any pain.”

Bianka let out a breath, trying to hide how shaken she was. She watched Mudry, who replaced the mask with an endotracheal tube and then began washing Splinter’s thigh with iodine. Dottore reached out for Bianka to hand him a frighteningly sharp scalpel. The light reflected off its shiny surface, casting a reflection on the wall.

“Subject No. 1623, experiment: the effect of Geomarrow infusion on morphology, composition, and density of human long bones,” Dottore pronounced. “First diagnostic operation. I’m making the first incision.”

Watching the procedure unfold, the corners of Bianka’s lips fell with each passing minute. She didn’t fear for Splinter’s life, but the operation would weaken her too much for the escape to be successful. She would have to rest for a few days, maybe even weeks, before they could make another attempt.

Well, assuming there will be another attempt at all, given the earlier grimace and hateful words. Gaining her trust again would be a miracle.

“Mudry, what’s going on?” Bianka was snapped out of her musings by Dottore’s preoccupied voice. Only now did she see Splinter’s blue skin and her accelerated breathing.

“Tachycardia and a drop in blood pressure,” Mudry replied. “The symptoms indicate shock.”

“Quick – give her an IV and start transfusing fluids,” he ordered. “I will disconnect her from the anaesthetic. Bianka, start suturing the wounds so she doesn’t bleed out.”

Despite the fact that all three of them carried out the assigned tasks without hesitation, Splinter’s breathing gradually slowed, and her heart rate dropped. When, moments later, Dottore had to start chest compressions, Bianka already knew how it would end. And she wasn’t wrong, for not five minutes had passed when it was all over.

Dottore moved away from the table with a livid face. The horizontal line on the electrocardiogram screen made clear the reason for his displeasure.

“It’s a real misfortune to lose a subject so early in the experiment,” Mudry said. “And so young on top of that.”

“Can you imagine that?!” Dottore snarled. “She didn’t react negatively to the sedative when Seven brought her in, so I assumed it would go without too much trouble now.” He sighed. “I should have done some preliminary research before the operation.”

He circled the table and said in a dispassionate voice, “Subject No. 1623 died approximately sixteen minutes after the start of the operation. Most likely cause of death: uncompensated anaphylactic shock due to anaesthetic. The subject will undergo an autopsy to confirm the cause of death and determine the results of the experiment.” He turned to Bianka. “You can go with—”

He fell silent, noticing her hunched shoulders and shaking hands. Having lifted her gaze, she looked at him with big, frightened eyes. He immediately modified the command.

“Go to Mudry’s office and sort the files; Fripon mixed them up again. When you’re done, you can go back to your room.”

Bianka didn’t budge, staring at the Harbinger as if paralysed. Dottore squinted, ready to catch her in case she fainted. But then, she took a few sluggish steps and finally left the room without a single word.

The Doctor breathed deeply and retreated into his own mind. Blackness surrounded him, dotted with flashes of light. Among them, he found a gentle glow, like the light of a firefly after dark – Erva. Having connected with his mind, he commanded him to look into Mudry’s office from time to time, assess Bianka’s condition, and offer assistance if needed. Then, he pulled out and opened his eyes. Once he’s done with his own chores, he would deal with the problem personally.

****

Bianka lay on the bed in her room, staring at the black, star-strewn sky. The only source of light was a solitary bedside lamp, casting a warm, calming glow on the cream-coloured walls. Her mind, however, was far from restful. Tears dripped from her eyes from time to time, drawing circular patterns on the mattress. She wanted to save Splinter, to give her a chance for a new life… But her efforts had taken away everything the girl had left. It was because of her that Splinter died, she had not the slightest doubt about it – the distillate must have reacted with the anaesthetic and caused the shock.

The distant stars twinkled, communicating with each other in a language known only to them. How beautiful they were, a glimmer of hope in the impenetrable darkness. And yet, the solemn souls a few storeys below will never be able to see them; will never feel the warmth in their hearts at the sight of the aurora borealis meandering in the sky like sea currents flowing between specks of sunlight.

With an anguished sigh, she curled into a ball and closed her eyes. How could it be that her careful planning had ended in such a huge failure? No. Who was she to think she could outwit Lord Dottore? It was possible that today’s surgery was just an unfortunate coincidence, but what if he had guessed what she was up to and decided to take matters into his own hands? She could no longer help Splinter or any other prisoner; she was too weak and tired. All she had left was to stare at the sky and await another punishment and suffering.

Perhaps that is why she wasn’t surprised when the door of her room opened with a quiet creak. For a full ten seconds, nothing happened, the only audible sound being their breaths – one calm, the other broken by sobs. Eventually, Dottore began to approach her bastion of sorrow.

“Will you talk to me?” he asked quietly, sitting down at the edge of the bed.

Bianka didn’t respond.

Dottore leaned closer and brushed a strand of hair away from her face to keep the tears from wetting it. “Don’t worry, the sky isn’t going anywhere; it won’t disappear if you take your eyes off it for a few minutes,” he tried to joke.

Bianka hesitated, then turned around and sat on the bed. Raising her eyes and crossing her gaze with Dottore had never before been so hard. The lamp’s light flickered from behind him, plunging his scarred face into darkness. But the gloom couldn’t stifle the glow in his keen, gentle eyes.

He stood up and went towards the bathroom, returning with a roll of paper. Bianka accepted it gratefully.

Dottore sighed. “Your eyes are red, similar to mine.”

Bianka sniffled. “Yours are not red from crying.”

“No,” he agreed. “Mine are the eyes of a demon; a being so different from you.”

She frowned. Why was he saying such things? Could there be a prerogative behind his words? Or was she so tired that she wasn’t thinking clearly?

“Bianka.” He sat down deeper on the mattress, his fingers resting on her hand. “I know now why you haven’t been yourself lately. It’s not because of illness or exhaustion. It has something to do with the patients, am I right?”

Bianka’s heart froze, turning into an icy lump. She hunched her shoulders, certain that she was about to be punished for her betrayal. How did traitors die…? On a scaffold, if she remembers correctly. She swallowed nervously. Dottore, however, didn’t show that he wanted to harm her in any way. On the contrary, she had rarely seen him so calm.

“You are unable to distance yourself from them. You perceive their fear and suffering as your own; thus, your psyche is weakened. Perhaps, in a way, it is a kind of illness.”

Bianka should be relieved – her plan was safe, but Dottore’s words carried more truth than she would have liked. Tears swirled in her eyes again. She lowered her head, the sense of defeat draining the last remnants of energy.

Then, Dottore lifted her chin with his finger, forcing her to look at him again. His face was different now – serious and determined. “I think I have found a solution to this problem. I admit that this idea… evokes uncomfortable emotions, but sometimes there may be no other way.” He looked straight into her eyes. “Would you like to return to work at the Main Research Institute?”

Bianka almost fell over. “The Main Research Institute…?”

“Indeed. You would return to the old centre, where you would be assigned to one of the laboratories. Your work would again revolve around poisons and toxins, and the only orders you would have to follow would be your own. For your contributions and work as the Second Harbinger’s assistant, you would be respected, and your words of advice would help less experienced scientists.” He snorted with amusement. “I wouldn’t even be surprised if you were appointed chief scientist. Of course, that doesn’t mean that the test subjects’ problems would disappear, but maybe breaking off contact with them and a change of job would help you take a breather and get back to your previous fitness. What do you think?”

Bianka was unable to get a single word out. Could it be that the shock had clouded her mind? Maybe she was hallucinating and only imagined Dottore’s proposal. But no, the Harbinger was here, and his gaze still expressed absolute seriousness.

She lowered her head. To return to the Main Research Institute… She had never considered such a possibility before. To find herself in familiar surroundings, return to a steady routine, and even spend evenings with friends at the inn. A tempting prospect of a quiet life, not to mention the prestige she would enjoy with her new title…

But could she still find a place for herself there? In the Doctor’s lab, she was learning something new, exciting, and fascinating every day. Her curiosity was more than satiated. At the institute, she would certainly feel unsatisfied. Besides, she had no one to go back to – her friends were no longer there, and although she would find new ones, her surroundings would still remind her of the past.

One more question remained – could she really leave the palace without hesitation, leaving behind the two people most important to her? Eymen was the last piece, the last thread that connected and reminded her of her former life. She had only just gotten him back, so how could she leave him again? And Dottore? Her master, her mentor, her… friend. She had seen him every day for the past few months, bantered with him, and greedily sipped the knowledge he shared with her. He was as much a part of her existence as the Segments. If she had to leave them all behind, her heart would break.

Dottore cleared his throat. “I can see it’s not an easy decision.” His voice was soft. “You don’t have to make it now. Think over my words, consider what you need, and when you know, come back to me and give—”

Bianka grabbed his forearm, preventing him from getting up. His eyes widened in surprise; he sent her a questioning look. Her voice didn’t tremble when she said, “My place is here.”

Dottore didn’t reply, waiting for further words, though these did not follow. Bianka’s mind was covered in fog, preventing her from communicating her own thoughts in a clearer way. She hoped this one sentence would be enough to convince him.

Dottore sat down more comfortably and covered her hand with his own. A gentle smile adorned his face while merry flashes lurked in his eyes. “If you prefer to stay in the palace and continue to help me, of course, I will not drive you out. However, I can clearly see that you are not fully yourself right now. I will give you a few more days to think about it; if, in the meantime, you change your mind and express your desire to return to the institute, I will take care of your transportation. And now you need to rest; it has been a hard day for you. Decide if you want to come to the lab tomorrow or if a rest would bring you more peace.”

He gently opened her fingers, which still held his forearm, and stood up. Being halfway to the door, he stopped. “One more thing: you won’t be working with the patients or going down to the basement anymore. There is as much work upstairs; I’m sure we’ll find something for you to do. I will make sure that the others know about my decision.”

That said, he left the room. Bianka stared at the door, the sudden silence humming in her ears. Finally, she leaned and sank onto the bed as she sat. She managed only to throw the duvet over herself before sadness, tears, and exhaustion lulled her to sleep.

Chapter Text

Dottore kept his promise – the basement and the depressed faces of their inhabitants became just an unpleasant memory. The nagging sadness didn’t leave Bianka immediately, but she began to come to terms with the situation and her own place in the world. At the very least, none of the segments tried to mock, scoff, or tease her. Apparently, they had an unwritten agreement that Bianka’s weakness was a taboo.

In the days following the incident, she tried to find a bit of comfort in her friend, but when she reached Eymen’s room, she was once again greeted by his roommate. Eymen had been sent on a mission somewhere to the west of Snezhnaya and would be back in a few days.

She was a zombie by the time she got back to the lab. Eymen was smart and resourceful, but for years, his only duty had been laboratory work. Would his training be enough? All she could do was pray.

“Bianka.”

Bianka looked up from her lab station. Dottore was smiling (not a good sign), beckoning her with his hand.

“I have a special task for you,” he said.

Bianka’s only response was a suspicious squint.

“Oh, come on, don’t be so distrustful; it’s a pleasant mission.” He pulled a wicker basket from behind him. “Have you had a chance to visit the palace vivarium yet?”

Bianka blinked, shaking her head. Since when was there a vivarium in the palace?

The Doctor straightened, satisfied. “I have finally managed to surprise you with something. Your task is simple: I want you to go there, collect, and bring back some Zaytun peaches.”

Bianka raised her eyebrows in bewilderment, which quickly turned into amusement. Of course, Dottore had to satisfy this unquenchable hunger. His push for the sweet was breaking all records of decency.

She nodded, a long-lost smile adorning her face. “How do I get there?”

“The vivarium is on the other side of the palace. You have to go past the main hall and head into the northernmost corridor. It will lead you to the palace’s back, to the outer gardens. You won’t have any problems getting to the vivarium from there. It’s a large, well-lit glass building.

Bianka nodded. Dottore handed her the basket.

“Bring three… No, four peaches,” he said. “You can also take one for yourself if you feel like it.”

“I want to eat some peaches too,” a new voice said.

They both turned towards Fripon, who had overheard the conversation and was looking at them with pleading eyes.

Dottore sighed, rubbing his face with his hand – any attempts to stop the young segment would end in failure. “Okay, then bring six—"

“Did someone say peaches?”

Before they had time to react, five segments were already standing around them, each emanating with a hope of a tasty snack.

Dottore threw them an unfriendly glance. “A bunch of gluttonous opportunists,” he muttered, then turned back to Bianka. “Just bring as much as you can carry. I don’t trust them to share fairly. The more, the better.”

Bianka sent him a long, meaningful look and, giggling, left the laboratory.

Following Dottore’s directions, she arrived at a sizable room lit by torches attached to the walls. Thick, wooden doors led outside. A nicker resounded somewhere in the distance – there must’ve been stables nearby. Wrapping herself tightly in her cloak, she approached the two guards who opened the door without a word. She didn’t need to introduce herself – as a Little Harbinger she was known throughout the palace.

Fortunately, the afternoon was windless. Otherwise, Bianka’s nose might have fallen off. She breathed in the crisp breeze, enjoying its freshness. It had been so long since she had had the opportunity to spend some time outside; the invigorating feeling of gentle snowflakes thawing on her face reminded her of days playing in the snow as a child; of spending time outside back at her old job. She should get out more often; nature invariably improved her mood.

She looked around at the landscape. Despite the early afternoon hours, the autumn days were quickly giving way to night, so there was already twilight outside. Small, light snowflakes fell quietly from the dark sky, covering the world with a fresh layer of fluff. No animals added life to the surroundings – it was far too cold and dangerous for them here. Only humans, mad in their arrogance, would attempt to settle in such adverse conditions.

The path she found herself on led through a garden full of sculptures. It was too dark to take a closer look, but she could see they were of various sizes and shapes, made of different materials, and numbered as many as a full battalion of soldiers. In the semi-darkness, they looked like phantoms from the mythical Night Kingdom the Natlan people believed in or like monsters lurking for vulnerable prey. Bianka sped up.

Eventually, she reached a circular square, from which several paths led to further parts of the garden. In its centre stood a large, primeval fir tree, so old Bianka wouldn’t have been surprised if it was standing here even before humanity came to be. A glaring light illuminated it from the back as if one of the stars had descended from the sky and crouched between the snow drifts. The vivarium. It looked just as Dottore had described it – huge (it could have covered up to a hectare), glassy, and beaming with light like a lighthouse on a black, oppressed by heavy rains night.

Inside, the sudden heat and humidity almost left her breathless. She hadn’t expected such a sudden change in temperature. There was nothing to be surprised about, though; this place was the last bastion for exotic plants and animals from many different corners of Teyvat. If not for the strictly maintained environmental parameters, they would all have died from frost.

Bianka took off her coat and hung it on a hanger just inside the entrance. She left the mask on, however. Correcting her grip on the basket handle, she ventured deeper into this unnatural but amazing paradise.

Green. Every patch of land was speckled with it. Not just the bright, vivid emerald of the young plants but also the darker malachite of the large monstera leaves and even the patina-coloured ivy. Among them, she saw patches of yellow, orange, red, pink, blue and purple. Tiny flowers, juicy fruits, old palm tree bark…

The murmur of flowing water rang in her ears, but she didn’t see a stream or artificial waterfall anywhere. And then, before she could spot it, five colourful birds flew overhead. She caught sight of three Dusk Birds typical of Sumeru nature, one Natlainian Halberd-Crest Bird, and a Thick-Feathered Pheasant. A green and red lizard ran right by her foot. A frog croaked off to the side. An otter barked from the hidden riverbank.

She was home.

It was the only way to summarise the place that made her heart beat with such joy. It was so beautiful and colourful; life was flourishing everywhere. The vivarium was like a long-awaited respite from work, chores, and biting cold.

Which is why the complete absence of other amblers was so surprising. This place should be bursting at the seams! Could it be that only high-ranking Fatui officers were allowed in here? No, that couldn’t be right – the entrance to the vivarium wasn’t even guarded. Had she overestimated the value of this place? Many Snezhnayans loved the extreme climate of their country; the heat and high humidity could be off-putting to them.

A sandy path led her to a small, exposed gazebo. The wood was painted white, with ivy climbing up its two walls of trellises arranged in a diamond shape. Under the canopy, surrounded by tropical hibiscus flowers, she found a neat bench. Behind it, a tiny stream flowed into a pond full of puddling axolotls. The whole area looked like a perfect place for a clandestine meeting of lovers, hiding from the sight of other people.

Bianka left her basket on the bench and walked towards the thicket. Her task could wait a while; now, she wanted to make the most of the opportunity given to her.

She took off her gloves and mask and touched a large leaf of an unfamiliar plant. It was heart-shaped, fleshy, and covered in fine bloom, which tickled her fingers pleasantly. Then, like an excited child, she ran around, breathing in the heavy, sweet scent of catalpa flowers and dipping her toes into a nearby pond. Tiny guppies, curious about the mysterious newcomer, even swam up to her, a few nibbling at her feet.

From the pond, she noticed pink and orange fruits. With a triumphant hum, she headed towards them. The bushes of Zaytun peaches were so full they were bending under the weight. The peaches were large and fleshy. When Bianka grabbed one and pulled, the stem practically detached itself, leaving the swollen with juice delicacy in her hand.

The responsible thing to do would be to go back for the basket and collect as many as possible. Something, however, was holding her back. She got here and found the right plant. She deserved something for that, right?

She brought the peach close to her face, inhaled its scent, then bit into the thin skin. A heavenly sweetness combined with a slight tartness flooded her taste buds. She sighed blissfully. There was so much juice that a few drops escaped her lips and flowed down her chin. The flesh melting in her mouth was equally delicious. She chewed unhurriedly, feeling the fruit’s thin filaments between her teeth. Having swallowed the first bite of this ambrosia, she opened her mouth, greedy for more.

But there’s no doubt I’d go without

A million plates of each

For one small mite,

One tiny bite,

Of this fantastic peach!

Bianka sprang from the ground, letting the fruit fall from her hand as her head whipped around, trying to locate the other voice. When she found nothing, she turned back to her discarded peach and then instantly almost fell backward.

A petite girl was standing before her.

Not just any girl. Oh no.

The girl giggled, lace obscuring her eyes as the blood drained from Bianka’s face. “I didn’t know drager liked peaches. So many years I’ve been walking on this world and I’m still learning something new. Isn’t it amazing!?”

Bianka quickly wiped her mouth and bowed her head. “Lady Colum—"

“Come closer, let me see you. The Doctor had been hiding you from me for so long; I was already beginning to lose patience.”

Then, something very strange happened. Before Bianka could give her body any command, her legs moved on their own. Something inside her, some being, or perhaps ego, drew her to the Harbinger like a magnet.

Columbina still didn’t open her eyes as she reached out her hand and placed it on Bianka’s cheek. “Something” danced with joy within Bianka, sending pleasant shivers down her spine. It was surprising but the Damselette’s touch did not cause the expected discomfort, even when it moved to her forehead, hair, neck, shoulders, chest, and abdomen.

Columbina mused, analysing information only known to herself. “You are shapely; your body is steadily gaining strength thanks to the training. Your mind is bright, though preoccupied, and you keep your health close.” She smiled kindly. “You have grown up beautifully, Bianka Snezhevna.”

Bianka fought against the thing inside her that was basking under the second’s attention. “W-What do you mean, my lady? Have we met before?”

“You are sensitive and delicate,” Lady Columbina said, ignoring her question, “but not weak, no… Your spirit has a power within that only the chosen ones are able to see.” Suddenly, she let out a loud gasp, like a scholar who has finally found the answer to a dilemma that has been plaguing them. “You are like a bird’s bone!”

This was not what Bianka expected to hear.

She furrowed her brows. “Empty inside?”

Columbina laughed and poked her nose. “Silly. The birds’ bones are fragile and delicate, but without them, none would ever conquer the skies.”

Bianka squirmed. She had heard rumours that Lady Columbina spoke in riddles and not everyone could comprehend her train of thought. Now, she had irrefutable proof of it.

Columbina groaned, snapping Bianka back to reality. “What has he done to you here?”

“What—”

Columbina placed a hand on Bianka’s neck, close to the nape, feeling around the place Bianka had the tracking device implanted. The murmur that ripped from her throat betrayed clear displeasure. “Jerk, that Doctor. So often he forgets that one can be a genius in one subject and a complete idiot in another. On the other hand,” she snorted with amusement, “our Doctor is eccentric. It’s only natural for him to show what he hides in his head and heart in an equally original way.”

Bianka no longer tried to understand Columbina’s perception of the world. Instead, she swallowed, eager to change the subject. “What brings you to this place, my lady?”

Columbina wagged her finger at her. “I should rather be the one to ask you that, drage. After all, you came into my house uninvited. It’s not very polite to intrude on your host in their home.”

The tone of her voice made Bianka tense. Dottore didn’t mention that she might meet the Third Harbinger in the vivarium. If Lady Columbina was telling the truth and this place belonged to her, that could explain the low (or rather zero) number of visitors. Any paradise, no matter how beautiful and appealing, will drive people away if its inhabitant is a deadly creature.

“Forgive me, my lady,” she replied. “I was not aware that the vivarium is—"

“Bianka must let herself be invited to tea,” she interrupted once again, clearly unconcerned by Bianka’s transgression. “Columbina would like to have a few words with her. To find out what she thinks of the good Doctor.”

The researcher froze; her gaze went to the basket left on the bench. Dottore would not be pleased with this new acquaintance. However, could she oppose the Harbinger? And of such high rank?

“Lady Columbina, I am very sorry, but I cannot accept the invitation,” she tried. The Damselette’s smile faded. Bianka swallowed nervously. “I didn’t come here for my own pleasure. I was sent by Lord Dottore…”

At the sound of his name, Columbina’s good humour returned with redoubled force. She laughed, following Bianka’s gaze with her eyes (or at least that’s what it looked like, for the Harbinger had still not removed the lace from her eyes. The Tsaritsa’s warriors are strange creatures indeed. So many of them hide their sight and faces from the world, yet they seem to see more than others).

“Ah yes, I should have guessed that. The Doctor and his parts can rob my plants of the last of their fruit, and now he’s trying to drag his right hand into this addiction.” She turned towards her. “Don’t worry about this task. Dottore will get his peaches, and I will get my companion.”

Like Dottore’s stubbornness, Columbina’s eagerness was impossible to fight. Resigned, Bianka lowered her shoulders and sighed. If the compensation for trespassing on private property was to be invited to an interesting evening over tea with the eccentric host, she was willing to agree to that.

“Could I at least take my mask and gloves?” she asked.

Columbina tutted. “Ah, that Doctor… Supposedly, doctors are supposed to cure, not infect. Meanwhile, he managed to instil another one of his paranoias in you.” She stroked Bianka’s cheek gently. “You have such a pretty face; you shouldn’t cover it up so often. If it’s so important to you, however, go ahead.”

With these words, Columbina handed Bianka her accessories. Bianka hesitated. When had they appeared in the Harbinger’s possession? She was sure that throughout their conversation, Columbina’s hands were empty. It was clear that most of her power came from her sense of touch. Could it be that Columbina had somehow “summoned” the gloves and the mask? And that strange feeling inside her, as if “something” was resonating with the Damselette and wanting to be near her.

Columbina hummed, snapping Bianka out of her reverie. “I can hear your thoughts and questions.” She giggled. “Good; it is said that the one who seeks always finds in the end. Now come, let’s not delay any longer. Tea tastes best when it’s hot.”

The woman pulled Bianka. Having left the vivarium, they once again found themselves in the company of gloomy sculptures. This time, however, they did not cause Bianka so much anxiety.

She glanced down at her companion, who was humming softly, then blinked in confusion. The Damselette wore no footwear at all. Her bare feet were sinking into the soft snow, but this didn’t spoil her mood. On the contrary, a light smile lurked on her face.

‘Who is this creature?’ Bianka wondered. ‘Not human, of that I am sure.’

Unfortunately, nothing promised that she would get a satisfactory answer any time soon. Columbina led her to the main hall and up the stairs to the second floor. Bianka had never been here before. Serenity and silence pervaded the corridors painted in a cold blue hue.

The floor was lined with soft carpeting, which, in Bianka’s opinion, was rather a bad idea considering so many snowy shoes could get it wet. However, the one here was in surprisingly good condition.

Bianka turned to look at her own footsteps. Suddenly, an opening appeared in the wall near the floor, from which a small robot emerged. Having traversed the width of the corridor, it disappeared into an opening on the other side, cleaning up any leftover mud or snow. She opened her mouth to ask Lady Columbina all about it, but the Harbinger was already far away. Bianka hurried after her.

Columbina disappeared into one of the rooms, leaving the door open. Bianka approached, hearing the clinking of cups coming from inside, as well as… cooing? Frowning, she stepped inside.

The living room was dominated by beige and pink, with every available space filled with oleanders, pink chrysanthemums, gardenias and other flowers. The walls pleased the eye with a delicate cream colour, and the windows, decorated with artfully carved festoons, were covered with white muslin curtains. Just below them, two powder pink armchairs faced the tea table with a long chaise longue, capable of seating two people, nearby. But what drew Bianka’s eye the most was the old-fashioned piano, which stood, near a marble fireplace.

From the pink sideboard Lady Columbina was just pulling out a porcelain teapot. Bianka watched her, then studied a rather unusual feature of the décor – a bird perch. Fixed in the corner of the room, four pigeons were huddling together on it. Two of them were white, one of which had a frill surrounding its head like a hood. The third had startling pink feathers and the last, white and black, huge crops.

And then Bianka noticed the elephant in the room, or rather, the tiger.

Lying in the opposite corner of the pigeons was a live rishboland tiger; large, muscular, and intimidating. The big cat opened its yellow-green eye for a moment, measured Bianka with a bored look, then tucked its head between its paws and went on sleeping.

“Don’t be afraid of Sinsi,” Columbina said, noticing Bianka’s sudden tenseness. “He is not dangerous. Recently, Sinsi injured his paw; I brought him here to watch over his recovery.” She then flashed an angelic smile. “Please make yourself comfortable while I prepare the tea.”

Sinsi. Bianka’s limited knowledge of foreign languages told her that the word meant “sly” in Sumerian. While Columbina busied herself with the teakettle, Bianka chose a seat closer to the pigeons; she didn’t trust that Sinsi wouldn’t throw himself at her at the first opportunity – his name couldn’t be a pure matter of chance.

After a few minutes, Columbina returned, carrying a tea service on a tray. Bianka fidgeted in her seat. She had yet to see a Harbinger serve a soldier of lower rank, even if, according to the Fatui hierarchy, she wasn’t very far from them.

“I should be the one to deal with this, my lady,” she said, standing up after she could no longer take it. “It’s unworthy of your position.”

Columbina burst into a pearly laugh. “Honour fills your spirit, drage, but so does anxiety. Do not fret and sit down. People estimate the worth of others in their own way; I too have my own. I know my spirit and I would never allow myself to be humiliated.”

Bianka slowly sat down while Columbina poured aromatic tea into her cup. “Why are you calling me that?” She had never heard of the term drage before, although she surmised its meaning.

Columbina would not have been herself if she had given a clear, understandable answer. Instead, a happy giggle came from her lips.

Skjulti Drage, Skjulti Drage has enormous teeth,

Stoney horns and deadly claws, but doesn’t like to seethe.

Just don’t dare behave like a nasty, snarky reptile,

or it roars with hellish flames, leaving only ash pile.

She then grabbed the handle of her cup and took a sip of tea. “Would you like to hold one of my pigeons?” she asked as if nothing had happened.

The sudden change of subject surprised Bianka so much that she nodded without thinking. Columbina approached the perch and began to introduce its tenants.

“The all-white one is Snowflake, Hank has a frill, Galbatorix, King of the Primaeval Demons, is a pouter, and Fluffy is pink."

Bianka choked on her tea. Columbina ran up to her and began to beat her on the back with an open hand. She finally managed to draw a deep breath. “I’m sorry; King of the Primaeval Demons?”

The Damselette smiled. “Good choice! Galbatorix, King of the Primaeval Demons, is a bit skittish towards strangers, but once you get to know him better, he will follow you like a shadow.”

Cooing softly, Columbina took the pouter in her arms and placed it on Bianka’s lap. Galbatorix, King of the Primaeval Demons, shot her a suspicious gaze. Bianka carefully brought her hand closer and, speaking in a reassuring tone, stroked his back. He didn’t seem to be fully satisfied with her advances but did not resist. She probably couldn’t hope for anything more.

Columbina picked out a pigeon too, Snowflake, and returned to her seat. “Now that we are ready, we can continue the conversation. I’d like to know more about the Second Harbinger’s right hand. Will you tell me a little about yourself?”

The pigeon cooed in a deep voice, settling down in her lap as Bianka hesitated. “But why?” she finally said, lowering her gaze. “I am just an ordinary orphan; I have neither wealth, nor good birth, nor even great talent and skill. That I became Lord Dottore’s deputy was merely a matter of chance. I cannot understand such an interest in me. I don’t know if I’m allowed to talk about my past and my relationship with the Doctor, even if my interlocutor is another Harbinger. If, however, you want me to satisfy your curiosity,” she raised her gaze, “I must know the reason for it.”

Columbina’s smile took on a mysterious expression. She laughed. This time, however, it wasn’t a girlish giggle but the quiet, forced murmur that a mentor whose apprentice had learned a guarded secret might let out.

“I see you won’t give up so easily. Good, caution and distrust are desirable traits among the higher-ranking Fatui. The Doctor made the right decision in appointing you as his right hand.” She leaned towards Bianka. “Let’s do it this way: you tell me a little about yourself and answer any questions I have, and in return, I’ll explain to you the reason for my interest, plus a little secret. What would you say to such an arrangement?”

Bianka lowered her head, frustrated she had to go first. Columbina was the Third Harbinger; if she decided to renege on her promise, Bianka wouldn’t be able to force her to speak; she had no such power.

She measured the Damselette with a serious look. “Will you swear that this is not merely an attempt to extract confidential information from me, my lady?”

Columbina placed her right hand over her heart. “You have my word on that, Bianka.”

She had no reason to remain silent any longer.

“Where should I start the story?”

Columbina smiled from over the rim of her teacup. “I don’t know that. Where do you think you should start?”

Bianka’s head ached from all the puzzling words. “Well…”

And so she began her story, written somewhere in Irminsul’s roots.

Her childhood she only mentioned in a few perfunctory words. Although it was not one of the most ordinary (for which pupil of the House of the Hearth didn’t have a rich history?), she did not consider it important. Columbina interrupted her only once, wanting to know if she had had the privilege of speaking to any of the Harbingers before leaving the orphanage. Bianka denied, not counting Lady Arlecchino, whom every one of her charges knew. Columbina seemed to ponder her words but did not pursue the subject.

Bianka moved on to the few years she had spent at the Main Research Institute. It was the most peaceful period of her life, so she didn’t spare it much time either. She mentioned in passing her friends but without divulging their names. This topic was too private, and she certainly didn’t want to reveal that one of them was a few floors down. However, Columbina interrupted her once again, asking when she had last seen them.

Bianka held back a sudden muscle spasm. “I haven’t had the chance to speak to anyone from my old centre.”

Columbina nodded slowly. “Do you miss them, Bianka?”

Bianka wanted to deny it, but she couldn’t. Columbina was too preceptive. Her voice might betray her and reveal her true feelings.

So she muttered, “Sometimes,” her mind filled with happy memories spent in the company of friends as a shadow of sadness dawned on her face.

“Let me get some cookies,” Columbina said, clearly sensing her sudden change of mood.

“Oh, it’s—”

Columbina sat down before she could protest, sprawling out on the chaise longue with a bowl full of biscuits. She patted the seat next to her, making it clear what she expected. Bianka stood up, leaving the empty tea cup on the coffee table. Galbatorix, King of the Primaeval Demons, cooed before following her. On the way, she passed a slumbering tiger which growled quietly.

Columbina chuckled as Bianka shuddered. “You are so afraid of him; it’s amazing. Sinsi knows your strength better than you know it yourself and knows not to seek an enemy in you. That’s why I like being among animals so much. Humans lost that beautiful instinct to sense the spirit of others long ago.”

Her words were of no comfort, and Bianka glared at the tiger before sitting down next to Columbina while the pigeon settled back on her lap.

“Like Dottore, I do not despise sweets,” Columbina said. “I make sure that I always have something to munch on at hand. And while we’re on the subject, why don’t you tell me about your first meeting?”

And so Bianka continued. She recounted her first days in Siniy Glaz. She was surprised at the unexpected relief that eased her tense nerves. The knowledge that there was someone who would remember her story was invigorating.

Here, Columbina asked way more questions – what was their work together like, what did Bianka do in the afternoons when Dottore started teaching her to fight? She was also intrigued by the self-built raft and the clandestine trips to the town. Her curiosity didn’t resemble the nosiness of empty gossip. Columbina was sincere. So Bianka answered her calmly, omitting fragments and details that she considered irrelevant or too confidential.

“Is that transmitter that was implanted in your neck a souvenir of those events?” Columbina asked.

Bianka bulged her eyes. How did Columbina know there was a small chip inside her body? The scar wasn’t yet indicative of anything; she could have acquired it in battle, or it could have been caused by a simple accident.

“You are not mistaken, my lady,” she confirmed, her intrigue piqued at Columbina’s knowledge. “Lord Dottore implanted it so that I could no longer slip away without his permission.”

Columbina hummed. “Was that your only punishment?”

A shiver of anxiety ran down Bianka’s back. “Yes, I suffered no other consequences…” Seeing the smile disappear from Columbina’s face, Bianka’s nervousness grew. “Is something wrong? You seem to be unhappy.”

Columbina snorted, the corners of her mouth returning to their previous state. “Not unhappy, just thoughtful. The Doctor is a proud man; he has no leniency for people who oppose him. Sometimes, he can take measures considered drastic by most to subdue rebellious subordinates. All the more pleased I am that you came out of this adventure almost unscathed.”

Before her words could further frighten an already disturbed Bianka, the Damselette encouraged her to continue. The researcher told the story of the encounter with the Beast and the rescue by the two Harbingers, finally arriving at the departure from Siniy Glaz and the train journey.

“He really gave you two chocolates in return for acknowledging his weakness?” Columbina asked with disbelief.

“It wasn’t my intention to emphasise it,” Bianka defended herself. “I just wanted to relieve him of his ailment; to make him feel better.”

The Harbinger snorted, then burst into laughter as if she had heard a good joke. “You are truly an amazing being, Bianka Snezhevna. I felt it before, but now I have the confirmation. You have a great power within you, a power that makes tigers move out of your way and rulers fall to their knees before you.”

Instead of inspiring respect, the comparisons only made Bianka laugh. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about, my lady. This tiger does not attack because it is wounded and accustomed to the presence of humans, and as for rulers, none have yet abased themselves before me. Lord Dottore has never hinted that there is anything supernatural about me, so why should I trust your judgement?”

Columbina scoffed. “Dottore stands firmly on the ground, forgetting that an infinite sky stretches overhead. Despite the perfection with which he wields his scalpel, despite his knowledge of what hides inside the human body, he has never seen anything beyond the outer shell. I try to see the depths, to feel the spirit, to hear the chanson.”

The last word she said with force, and Bianka shuddered, surprised by the sudden change in Columbina’s airy tone.

“I could make Dottore see your strength; know who he has invited under the roof of his house.” She leaned in, whispering conspiratorially. “Would you like that?”

Bianka moved away a little. Would showing Dottore her own strength bring her additional benefits? The Damselette mentioned that he doesn’t like it when anyone challenges his authority. Perhaps it would be better to maintain the hierarchy and remain his faithful right hand.

Unfortunately, Columbina didn’t give her time to think. Leaving the empty biscuit bowl behind, she got up from the chaise longue and headed for the adjoining room. Bianka hesitantly followed, nervousness growing in her stomach. Snowflake and Galbatorix, King of the Primaeval Demons, didn’t stay behind. And this time, as Bianka walked past Sinsi, she showed no fear.

Columbina led her to the bedroom. Most of the space was occupied by a large canopy bed. The owner herself was rummaging in a sumptuous wardrobe, pulling out clothes and placing them on the bed next to her brush, face powder, and eye shadow.

Bianka froze, noticing the colour of the clothes. “Do I understand correctly that showing my strength to Dottore involves dressing me up as… Red Riding Hood?”

Columbina chuckled. “You have interesting connotations. Trust me, Bianka; there are different kinds of power in this world, and not all of them involve mastery in sword or intelligence beyond all norms.” She smiled slyly. “I would rather say that the power you have is more potent than those two. Sit down on the bed and wait for me to finish. Oh, and take off that coat, it’s not that cold in here.”

Bianka obeyed, although she was far from happy.

The pigeons, at least, flapped their wings and sat down next to her, huddling together, which was nice. They were amusing, especially Galbatorix, King of the Primaeval Demons. Because of his large crop and upright figure he reminded her of Lord Dottore – proud and insensitive to the opinions of other birds. His appearance, however, was only a pretence, for it was he who kept teasing, nibbling, and strutting in front of the calmer Snowflake.

Moments later, Columbina joined Bianka and the pigeons. She sat down behind her and, after a short thought, grabbed a brush.

“We’ve reached the point of your departure from Siniy Glaz,” she prompted. “Will you tell me what happened next?”

Bianka nodded and began to relate the next part of her story while Columbina gently combed her hair. The brush’s teeth scratching her head put Bianka into a pleasant lethargy, causing her to pause several times, losing the thread. However, Columbina’s cool hand, which she placed on her cheek, effectively roused her back.

She recounted her arrival at the palace and not very friendly reception by the Doctor’s segments, as well as her adventures in Her Majesty’s house. But when she reached the patients confined to the basement of the laboratory, she paused. Columbina sensed her change of mood, assuring Bianka she had known the Doctor for a very long time and knew who he was conducting experiments on. This fact wasn’t a great comfort to Bianka; however, she didn’t have to fear that she would reveal Dottore’s secret. So she continued, mentioning the prisoner tasks assigned to her.

As she spoke, the gloom that had plagued her returned. Splinter’s last words and gaze, the other prisoners still rotting, it all filled her with a sense of hopelessness—

Humming.

Bianka glanced to the side as Lady Columbina hummed a slow song. She then began to weave a red ribbon into Bianka’s hair. The gentle sensation of that, as well as calm notes made Bianka’s sadness and despair fall back into sleep, giving up the reins to peaceful acceptance.

“Communing with the dead is not a simple and pleasant thing; I know something about it myself,” Columbina said, still humming.

Bianka perked up, curious about her words.

“When people die, they retain various emotions in their spirits. If these emotions are peace, contentment, or fulfilment, it’s not tiring to be around them. But I expect that the Doctor’s patients have a lot of fear, anger, and hatred in them. Such spirits can attack the mind, destroy hope, and poison the soul. One has to be strong or invulnerable to withstand this onslaught.” She smiled. “You, however, have nothing to worry about, Bianka. You are like a bird’s bone, remember? Seemingly fragile and weak, yet it gives birds the power to fly. Your spirit is not meant to be influenced; it is meant to impact others.”

Bianka slowly nodded.

“Thank you, too, for sharing your story with me,” Columbina said, gesturing for Bianka to stand up.

Bianka obeyed and stood in front of the Harbinger, who took the red coat from the bed.

Helping Bianka remove the outer garment, she continued,” You have fulfilled your part of the bargain; it’s my turn now. I promised to explain my interest in you and to tell you a secret. Let me start with a secret.” At once, she lowered her voice. “You see, Bianka, people have five senses, and among them, hearing is high on the list. What a pity, then, that they cannot make full use of it! They can hear laughter, raindrops tapping on the roof, and the roar of their own blood, but they cannot hear the chanson.”

Columbina fell still as if listening to the arias she mentioned. The silence stretched for a good few minutes until Bianka began to worry that Columbina had somehow lost consciousness. But then she sighed sharply, not unlike a drowning man swallows his first breath of air.

“Everyone has a chanson,” Columbina explained, adjusting Bianka’s coat. “The spirits are able to hear them, and if they find one extremely interesting, they sing it, passing the content between themselves. The more interesting the chanson, the more spirits know its words. I can’t hear the chanson of every mortal, but I hear the singing of the spirits.” She lowered her voice so much that Bianka had to lean in to distinguish the individual words. “There are graceful notes floating around you too. If you wish, I can decipher them for you, but beware! Everything in this world has its price. This is the price of knowing your chanson: contrary to what mankind thinks, destiny is not immutable; one can change its direction in the course of one’s life and take a different path. But if the words of the chanson become known to you, your own spirit will do everything it can to fulfil them. Despite what I’ve told you just now, do you want me to sing it?”

Bianka was stunned. How could she make such an important decision? For half of her life, she had been surrounded by people of science, while Columbina exuded an aura of mystical esotericism. Should she listen to her? Was this even real? She wanted to know her chanson; she couldn’t deny it. Curiosity, like an old friend, was already knocking at the door of her soul. But should she? What if the words foretold much suffering and a terrible end for her? Or were they hopeful after all? Perhaps they spoke of love and a better tomorrow?

Then, she began to ponder another question – would she want to change the path she was currently on if given the chance? Could she leave the Fatui and hole up somewhere on the edge of the world? Or, on the contrary, would she stay and climb further in the hierarchy until she herself was given the honoured title of a Harbinger?

Her gaze wandered to the two pigeons. Lord Dottore was waiting for her. He was waiting for his right hand, his assistant, his friend. Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa, had made it clear that he would need her presence in the near future, and she had promised to abide by his side.

Such is her fate, such is her chanson.

She’s made up her mind. “I am happy with the path I am currently on; I’m not going to change it. I want to hear my chanson; to find out why the spirits you speak of have taken such an interest in it.”

Columbina grinned and nodded. “I will grant your request. Listen carefully.”

She was silent for a few moments. Finally, she licked her lips and began to sing in a slow, deep voice:

Look!

The Light with The Darkness prances.

They fight; who has the bigger chances?

In the past, now, in the future

War feeds on them like a cougar.

Suddenly, good heavens above! Is the sheer truth what I perceive?

The pure Light swathes its foe in hope, The Darkness hides its misty teeth.

The rueful history can change, sad and bleak life take a new course,

An alliance ends evil wars and brings peace with heavenly force.

Look!

The Light with The Darkness dances,

The Darkness at The Light glances.

I open my eyes wide, aghast,

Wondering where they walk so fast.

Their wondrous Shadow on the ground, the tiny fruit of love is born,

Tribe’s treasure is for all to bear, no one is keen to cry and mourn.

The Shadow’s limbs reach far and wide, The Darkness sets the tall flames free,

The Light will shine among young leaves; their first cradle – the old, dead tree.

Columbina repeated the song two more times. She didn’t need to, though – the chanson was already stuck in Bianka’s head. It was moving the strings of her emotions, pushing itself into her head, wetting her eyes with tears, encouraging her heart to beat faster. And, above all, it brought to life “something” sitting deep within her being.

The words will remain in her mind forever. She will analyse them many days, step by step, until she discovers their full meaning.

Finally, Lady Columbina fell silent. “Bianka,” she then said with sudden solemnity, snapping out of her trance, “your chanson is known by truly many spirits, and its content is extraordinary. I am a confidant of many chansons – long or short, lively and sombre, rhyming or blank, but yours stands out among them. I don’t know what role you will play in the history of this world, but I believe it will be no small one. Listen to your heart and follow your spirit, and the words of the chanson will become true.”

A door creaked from the living room.

Bianka raised her head abruptly, painfully aware of her current attire. Was it Dottore looking for his assistant? Or had a servant come to give the Harbinger an important message?

Footsteps approached the bedroom. Bianka glanced nervously at Columbina, but the Harbinger looked as carefree as ever. With a movement of her hand, she instructed her to sit down on the mattress again, unconcerned about the unannounced visitor. Bianka obeyed but did so reluctantly.

Then, the door opened.

“Columbina, I have a report for you on the eastern expedition, as you requested.”

Bianka’s body locked up. This wasn’t a servant or a soldier. It wasn’t even Dottore.

It was much worse than that.

Fighting back embarrassment, she crossed her gaze with the red, x-shaped pupils of the other woman. Lady Arlecchino stopped, surprise painting on her face. But she quickly concealed her bewilderment.

“Bianka Snezhevna,” she said thoughtfully. “I admit that you are the last person I expected to see in the Third Harbinger’s room.”

“Father, I…” Bianka fell silent, an unpleasant taste filling her mouth. Her heart was heavy as if she had misbehaved. “I am sorry for what happened at the banquet,” she got out, her expression humble while her gaze remained attentive. “I shouldn’t have attacked the Doctor and goad Boyka to fight. I let my emotions get the better of me and forgot your teachings. In the future, I will better control my anger.”

Arlecchino eyed her for a few seconds, her face impenetrable like a thick fog. But then, she snorted and smiled lightly, startling Bianka. “When we made the decision for you to leave the House of the Hearth, I thought I wouldn’t be able to recognise you after a few years. You, however, have not changed at all, child.”

Before Bianka had time to reply, Columbina giggled. “That’s not true, Knave. Just look!”

Columbina started nudging Bianka in the face. Bianka didn’t know what was going on, though her irritation rose with each jab. Keeping her emotions in check, she bared her teeth and growled warningly. When Columbina didn’t give up, she tried to bite her finger.

That seemed to satisfy the Harbinger. She turned to Lady Arlecchino with a broad smile on her face. “See?”

Arlecchino hummed. “Yes, I see what you mean. The Doctor’s constant presence has not gone unnoticed. I hope that at least your behaviour at the table hasn’t changed significantly.”

Bianka laughed nervously. “I assure you I haven’t forgotten good manners.”

Arlecchino nodded with satisfaction, then turned serious. “Bianka, I don’t blame you for fighting with my right hand. Boyka is a good warrior, however, this situation showed me that her skills could be used in a better way. Don’t make such a surprised face, I know you are secretly happy with my decision.” Bianka remained tactfully silent. “I already have a candidate for this responsible position. Do you remember Lyney?”

The name brought a smile to Bianka’s face. Lyney was younger than her and Boyka, but he was loyal, courageous and empathetic. Those traits were why he always seemed to stand out from the other Fatui members. If one day he donned the Harbinger’s mantle, the residents of the House of the Hearth would be in good hands.”

“He’s an excellent choice, Father,” she said, while Columbina began to apply make-up to her face.

“I’m glad we’re in agreement on this.” She cleared her throat. “As for your altercation with the Doctor… it was a reprehensible move on your part.” Bianka shuddered, hearing her former guardian’s harsh tone. “However, if you are still alive and well, I conclude that Dottore wasn’t very outraged by this behaviour. Are similar arguments the daily occurrence in the lab?”

“No, of course not! We just…” She recalled their bickering and banter. There was no point in hiding it; they were far from angels.

Arlecchino espied her hesitation. “I won’t pry or try to understand the nature of your collaboration. Just stay alive; that’s all I ask of you.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet, Arle,” Columbina cooed, massaging some pleasant-smelling gel into Bianka’s hair. “You still care for her, even though she’s no longer your ward.”

“Bianka spent her entire childhood in the House of the Hearth. Is it so strange that I am interested in the lives of children who have survived to the point of reaching adulthood?”

Columbina laughed. “A tree knows the branches that grow from its trunk and the fruit it bears,” she said sententiously.

“May I know why Bianka is currently under your care?” Arlecchino asked. “Her place is deep underground, in the Doctor’s laboratory.”

“Oh, it’s nothing like that.” She waved her hand. “Will you explain to her, Bianka?”

“Lady Columbina invited me for a cup of tea after we ran into each other in the vivarium.”

“Did she?” The Knave raised one eyebrow. “And part of that invitation included dressing up as Red Riding Hood?”

“Oh, you’re no fun,” Columbina scolded her. “When was the last time you had a chance to be in the company of the fair sex, Bianka?”

The researcher frowned, thinking. “In the mountain town, a few weeks after Lord Dottore appointed me as his assistant.”

“So a few months ago! That much time you were surrounded by nothing but boorish, surly, and arrogant men!”

“Not all of them were surly and boorish…”

“You see, Arle? I only make sure that Bianka can indulge in activities associated with the feminine sphere. And besides, don’t you think she looks beautiful now?”

How Columbina determined someone’s appearance with her eyes closed was impossible to tell.

The Harbinger jumped off the bed and walked over to the wardrobe equipped with mirrors, positioning them so that Bianka could see herself.

The blouse and jacket had disappeared somewhere, as well as her slack trousers. Her torso, arms, and legs were now covered by an intense red coat. It didn’t reach the wrists, calves, and bare feet, so a chill attacked her every few seconds. The neckline exposed her left shoulder and part of the collarbone. Her glistening hair was pinned up in a low ponytail with two wavy bangs falling flirtatiously over her face. A powdery blush adorned her cheeks, and gloss made her lips shine. Her eyelids shimmered with a silvery hue with flecks of gold, and her eyes were accentuated by a dove grey eyeliner, finished with a bold upward stroke.

Seeing all of this, Bianka blushed from embarrassment.

The outfit did subtly accentuate Bianka’s beauty, but she saw no point in Columbina’s whimsy. It was late; she must change back into her usual clothes and get back to the lab before Dottore became concerned.

‘It’s probably already happened,’ she thought.

“How are you feeling, Bianka?” There was a distinct contentment emanating from the Damselette’s voice. “Do you like your current appearance?”

She forced a smile. “Yes, my lady, it’s… interesting.”

Columbina giggled. “That’s the spirit! Let’s hope the Doctor likes it too.”

Bianka furrowed her brows. “What do you mean?” Did she mishear? “I’m supposed to show up like this—”

A loud bang of the door being violently opened came from the living room, followed by ominous footsteps. Bianka flinched – this time, she had not the slightest doubt who had decided to haunt them.

“And here comes the wolf…” Columbina muttered.

Dottore rushed into the room, a wild expression on his face. Arlecchino, who had managed to move away in time, sent him a look full of reprimand.

“Columbina!” he thundered. “What right do you have to harass my right—"

Dottore broke off, staring at Bianka. The angry grimace disappeared, his lips parting in mute surprise. He looked exceptionally stupid now as if all his brain cells had gone somewhere, leaving one lonely hermit.

With each passing second, Bianka grew more and more uncomfortable. Did he have to stare at her like that? Everyone was silent, even the pigeons, waiting for his next move. She glanced out of the corner of her eye at Columbina; the Harbinger was staring into space with a serene smile. Was it this enigmatic “power” she had in mind? If so, Bianka wasn’t delighted by it. She tried to send the Doctor an urgent look.

‘Snap out of it, dumbass!’ she cursed. ‘One second longer, and we’ll become a laughing stock!’

Fortunately, Dottore understood the silent message. He cleared his throat, shifting on his feet. “I… As I was saying…” he stammered. If Bianka’s gaze had temperature, Dottore would have turned into an embarrassed icicle. He grunted a second time. “Why is my right hand in your room, Columbina?”

“Is it really such a big sin to want to talk to a smart woman over a cup of tea?” she complained. “I wanted to be a good host. You sent poor Bianka alone to the vivarium so that you and your segments could eat some peaches. Aren’t you ashamed?”

Dottore’s embarrassment grew even greater. He scratched his head. “And why is she wearing this…” He made an indefinite movement with his hand.

“I don’t recommend asking Columbina any more questions,” Arlecchino said cooly. “You may not get satisfactory answers – if you get them at all.”

The Doctor’s head snapped towards her, whose gaze was as icy as Bianka’s.

“And what are you doing here?” he inquired. “Are you involved in this too?”

“You know I don’t like meddling in the affairs of other Harbingers,” she hissed; her voice was almost as pleasant as the screech of a fork scraping across plates. “I have come here on an entirely different matter. I would like to discuss it now with the Damselette… in private.”

Dottore was already baring his teeth, eager for an argument. Before he had time to let the hell break loose, however, Bianka snarled, showing her contempt for his behaviour.

“Let’s get out of here, Dottore,” she urged. “We’ve lost a lot of time; the experiments are waiting.”

She didn’t hold out much hope that he would listen to her – Dottore was too proud to listen to anyone but himself. So her surprise was all the greater when he immediately calmed down and took a step away from the Knave.

“You’re right, we can’t delay any longer,” he agreed.

Bianka walked towards the door when she felt a small hand on her shoulder. She turned to the still smiling Columbina.

“Haven’t you forgotten something, drage?” she asked. Bianka frowned, not understanding what she was getting at. Letting go of her, the Damselette padded behind the bed and leaned over. To Bianka’s sky-high amazement, she pulled out a basket filled to the brim with peaches. How did it get there?!

With quiet words of thanks, she accepted the basket and rushed over to the Doctor. The man once again began to fidget. “Well, let’s go back to the—"

Then, he went rigid. His nostrils twitched violently. He began to sniff, inevitably approaching Bianka’s hair. Only now did she realise that the gel rubbed in by Columbina gave off a peachy scent. The aroma must have pleased Dottore immensely, for he “glitched” a second time, staring dully at her irritated face. They were so close that the heat beating off his body (especially his cheeks) radiated into her skin.

They couldn’t afford even a second’s delay! She grunted forcefully to snap him out of his stupor. “Time to go.”

Dottore’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Yes, y-you’re right.” Did he really stammer? Bianka could already see another rumour spreading through the palace corridors like the plague. “Give me that basket; it looks heavy.”

Bianka readily agreed to the offer. Having taken the basket, Dottore threw Columbina and Arlecchino one last look, then left the suite without a word. Showing better manners, Bianka said goodbye to the women.

“Lady Columbina… Will I get my clothes back?”

The Damselette hummed. “Children are curious about the world and can stray too far sometimes, but they always return home in the end.”

Bianka nodded her head slowly before setting off to follow Dottore. The front door closed behind her with a quiet click.

Columbina and Arlecchino stood in silence, listening for any sounds from outside. Annoyed whispers reached their ears, but it was impossible to distinguish the individual words. Eventually, they too fell silent.

Arlecchino threw the papers she was holding onto the bed. “The troop has spotted some rare species; you should be interested in them.”

Columbina pushed the papers aside and sat down on the mattress, placing a quiet Snowflake on her lap. Galbatorix, King of the Primaeval Demons, watched them like a hawk.

“Thank you, Perrie; it is a great privilege to always be able to count on your help,” she said with sincerity while a gentle smile danced on her face. “Will you be furious if I take advantage of you one more time?”

Arlecchino raised an eyebrow. “Oh? That’s interesting. What else could you use my help with?”

“I’d like to get a list of the soldiers transferred to the palace in the last… two months.”

“Now you’ve really got me curious.” Arlecchino sat down on a chair by the dressing table. “Are you interested in any particular place?”

Columbina nodded. “The Main Research Institute.”

“The same one where Bianka worked?”

“Exactly.”

“May I know the reason for your sudden interest in this subject?” Columbina’s smile turned into a grin, but she herself remained silent. Arlecchino furrowed her brows. “Logistical matters are the responsibility of Pulcinella…”

“Does this mean that you are unable to help me?”

“I didn’t say that. You’ll get the list within a week.”

“Ah, thank you, Perrie! Your reliability is truly a wonderful quality.”

After this exchange of words, a comfortable silence reigned once more. Columbina continued stroking Snowflake, from time to time scratching the other pigeon, which didn’t stop trying to get closer to her companion, cooing angrily when he failed.

Arlecchino propped her chin with her hand, falling into deep thoughts.

Columbina broke the silence. “Are you still worried about her? Even though it’s been so long?”

Arlecchino gave her a sharp look. “Should I be?”

Columbina snorted. “Should you be worried? Yes. About your charge? Not at all.”

“Then who do I have to worry about?”

“About the Doctor, of course!”

Arlecchino scowled, her utter disgust evident. “I don’t think Dottore deserves any concern on my part; he has to fend for himself.” She fell silent for a few moments. “By the way, he was behaving rather unnaturally today, don’t you think?”

“It’s true, his spirit was restless.”

“It was clearly related to Bianka’s presence and appearance, wasn’t it?”

“Your eyesight hasn’t lost its sharpness, Perrie.”

“I have never seen him behave in this way before. The effect that Bianka has on him is almost unimaginable,” she mused. A second later, she threw Columbina a shrewd glance. “Did they have an affair?”

This time, the Damselette burst into a pearly laughter, scaring the pigeons. “It’s still a bit early for that, don’t you think?  If they continue steadfastly on the path they have chosen, however, their spirits will live in harmony with each other.”

“You think so?” Arlecchino’s voice suggested that her earlier words were mere conjecture.

Columbina was silent for a few moments, a puzzled smile lurking on her face. Finally, she opened her mouth. “I don’t think so, Peruere.” She raised her head. “I know that.”

****

“What was that supposed to be?! Have you lost your mind?”

The cold of the corridor penetrated Bianka to the bone, but irritation and disbelief distracted her from the temperature. She stared at a very embarrassed Dottore, demanding an explanation. Even his faithful mask couldn’t protect him from her gaze. He tried with all his might not to make eye contact.

“It’s just your clothes…” he began hesitantly. “They surprised me. And what were you doing there, by the Seven Archons?!” Dottore immediately changed the subject. “You were only supposed to get the peaches, not fraternise with another Harbinger!”

“It’s not my fault, she invited me herself!” Bianka snapped. “Was I supposed to just walk away? I was afraid of the consequences.”

“There would be no consequences,” he asserted. “I am the Second Harbinger, Columbina is behind me; I have more power.”

Bianka huffed. “It doesn’t matter much now; water under the bridge. Let’s go back to the laboratory.”

For once Dottore didn’t try to object. They hurried down the dark passages. It was late, so (thank the gods!) the corridors were empty.

“What were you talking about?” Dottore inquired. “Was she trying to extract some sensitive information from you?”

Classic Dottore, always suspicious and expecting the worst. Bianka shook her head. “Nothing of the sort, she was merely interested in my story.”

“Is that so? And what did you tell her?”

Bianka recounted the meeting in the vivarium and the tea party in Columbina’s rooms. Dottore grimaced a few times, reprimanding her for her uninhibited tongue-wagging. Fortunately, none of the information she gave should prove problematic. In the course of her report, Bianka didn’t mention the chanson. The issue was too delicate and the mesmerising words – meant only for her ears.

“What can you tell me about Lady Columbina, Dottore?” she asked. “She seems to be an extraordinary being. She was able to summon my mask and a basket of peaches, and her touch made something inside me… move.”

Her words sounded very silly; Dottore probably wouldn’t attach importance to them. However, he nodded in understanding. “Columbina is a powerful necromancer. She can sense the presence and speak to the spirits of the dead who remain in the world of Teyvat. Her abilities do not end there, though. She can… detect the essence of things and influence it.” He looked at her, his face serious. “Be careful when in her presence. She’s able to find out things with ease – emotions, intentions – that are inaccessible to other people.”

“I understand, D-Dottore,” Bianka said. “I’ll be o-on my g-guard.”

The Doctor looked at her, noticing her chattering teeth and the chills racking her body. “You’re freezing.”

Bianka scoffed. “W-what pe-erceptive e-e-eyes. T-this g-garment,” she pointed at the thin coat, “doesn’t h-help you w-warm up.”

Dottore remained silent. After a moment’s hesitation, he stopped, then, having put down the basket, took off his heavy, thick fur coat. “Put it on,” he growled, stubbornly turning his head away.

Smiling under her nose, Bianka accepted the gift. The fur gave off the familiar scent of mint, resin, and the masculine notes characteristic of her lord. “Thank you, Dottore. That’s much better.”

The Doctor muttered something in reply and rushed down the corridor much faster than before. However, he slowed down after a few seconds as Bianka fell behind. With growing impatience, he stopped and looked at her.

“What’s going on?” he asked as she limped forward. “Are you in pain?”

Bianka shifted on her feet. “A little. My feet are terribly cold, but it’s nothing; the lab is not that far. I’ll reach it at my own pace.”

With these words, she limped ahead, oblivious to the battle going on in Dottore’s mind. The Doctor bit his lip and shook his head, finally letting out a frustrated groan. He cursed in his native tongue.

“We can’t dilly-dally like that. Take this!” He pressed a basket of peaches into Bianka’s hands. Before she had a chance to ask what his plan was, she screamed as the ground disappeared from under her. Dottore took her in his arms, placing one hand under her knees and the other under her back, and rushed down the corridor.

She had never seen him move so fast before. Details blurred before her eyes as Dottore seemed to almost levitate above the floor. She could, however, hear his rapid breathing. She gripped the basket and snuggled her head into his shoulder to avoid accidentally hitting a torch or other ornament.

They reached the complex in express time, meeting no one along the way. When they found themselves in a familiar corridor illuminated by orange power lines, Dottore put Bianka on the ground. She wobbled slightly, attacked by sudden vertigo.

“I didn’t know you could run so fast!” she chuckled. “But what else would you expect from the Second Harbinger. Are you all right? Do you feel tired?”

“Don’t insult me, Bianka; this short run doesn’t compare to my standard training,” he grumbled, reaching out for the basket.

Bianka smiled and handed him the fruits, then began to take off the fur.  “Thank you again. It’s warm enough now that I don’t need—"

Dottore stopped her, pulling the coat back over her. “Keep it,” he said, looking at the ground. “Go to your room now, change, and when you come back, I’ll take it from you.”

“Why should I go and change? I think I can endure in…” She fell silent, gazing at him inquisitively. Dottore continued to look away, hunching his shoulders and squirming in place. She smiled, a sudden clarity hitting her. “My current attire still perturbs you that much?”

Dottore flinched and bared his teeth in a grimace of displeasure. “What a ridiculous idea! Why should I feel abashed? That I can see a little more of your body?” He snorted. “I’m a scientist; nature and biology don’t embarrass me!”

Bianka’s smile grew wider and wider while Dottore fidgeted more and more. The Light at The Darkness glances; they fight… She could see it clearly now.

She won’t tease him any longer.

“OK, I’ll go and change,” Bianka agreed. “This coat was starting to scratch my neck anyway. Leave me some peaches.”

Before he had time to reply, she hurried to her room. Her clothes were waiting for her spread out on the bed – exactly the ones she had worn in Columbina’s flat – as well as her mask. Having washed off her make-up, she got changed and returned to the laboratory. There, a bunch of segments, along with Dottore, were already waiting at the table, eating peaches. Bianka tilted her head. Why didn’t Dottore take off his mask?

“Anything left for me?” she said in greeting. Seven, who had just taken a handful of fruit in both hands, immediately threw them back into the basket.

“We wouldn’t dare eat it all without first sharing with the one to whom we owe the opportunity to taste their heavenly flavour,” Mudry said, smiling with kindness. Erva slid a stool over to Bianka, and Fripon handed her a large peach (for a moment, she felt an overwhelming urge to check whether the fruit had been poisoned or stuffed with laxatives. After all, one could expect anything from Fripon. However, she decided to place a certain amount of trust in him).

Bianka bit into the skin, and the now familiar taste filled her mouth. She sighed contentedly, then looked at Ayaz who was leaning against the table, rotating the peach by the tail, but not eating. “You don’t like the taste of peaches?”

Ayaz shrugged. “I like them, but I don’t want to eat them. My dissatisfaction will only increase when they are all gone.”

Bianka hummed, patting him on the shoulder in a friendly manner. “I can give you two of my peaches. I’ve eaten my fill before.”

Ayaz raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

She laughed, nodding her head. A rarely visible shadow of a smile graced the segment’s face. He finally bit off a bite of fruit with his razor-sharp teeth.

Bianka shifted her gaze to Dottore. He too was reluctantly nibbling on his own delicacy. “Do you not like it either? That can’t be; you were the one who wanted me to fetch them.” The Doctor muttered something under his breath, staring ahead. She furrowed her eyebrows. “Why didn’t you take off your mask? We’re safe; no one will come in here to offend your pride and criticise your scars.”

Dottore made a face but refused to participate in a conversation with a stubbornness worthy of the most obdurate donkey.

Suddenly, Fripon jumped from his chair. “I know why! He doesn’t want you to see—"

Dottore turned abruptly and bared his teeth. “You were supposed to eat those stupid peaches!” he shouted, shoving the fruit straight into the segment’s mouth. Fripon’s teeth jammed up in the flesh, making further explanations impossible. While he tried to extricate himself, Dottore finally relented. “My eyes are sore; perhaps the first sign of conjunctivitis and the light from the lamps is glaring at me.”

Bianka muttered thoughtfully. She removed one glove and pressed her hand to his forehead and then his cheek. Dottore flinched, but didn’t recoil from the touch. “Maybe you are indeed getting sick. You’re a bit warmer than usual.”

The Doctor froze, petrified. As soon as she took her hand away, he turned sideways and attacked the peach with sudden fervour. Mischief twisted her lips into a smile. as she observed his behaviour.

Perhaps it was because of Dottore’s sudden “illness” that Bianka found two notes under the flat door the next morning. The first – from Columbina – invited her to another afternoon tea as soon as she had free time. Uncertainty made her hesitate, but she agreed nonetheless, happy to have such a strong ally.

The second note ripped an amused snort from her chest. Dottore informed her that he was giving her the day off today and forbade her from showing up at the lab. The postscript further admonished that it would be best if she didn’t go near it at all.

She smiled, tucking both notes into her pocket. She couldn’t waste such a gift.

Chapter Text

As much as she hoped for it, one positive day couldn’t heal her ailing soul.

Gloom became her new friend. Each day looked similar: wake up, head to the lab, work on poisons, help the segments, have lunch, continue work, return to her room, sleep. Boundless curiosity about the world left her, relinquishing the reins for numbness. She tried to take an interest in the knowledge gained from Dottore, studying textbooks or even teaching Kurage tricks, but what had previously aroused her delight had lost its lustre.

Dottore… was helping. Or at least he tried in his own unique way.  Every day, he showered her with tasks so that she wouldn't have time to think about prisoners and wallow in sadness. However, he was avoiding her. Since the situation with Columbina, he would turn his head away whenever she got too close, strenuously hiding his gaze from her or pretending to be very absorbed in his research.

More than once, she noticed that his ears darkened in her company, which somewhat soothed her. However, if Dottore didn't manage to “escape” or Bianka followed him, he bombarded her with the most interesting experiment cases, gossip he had overheard or stories from the past. But still, the change was unnerving.

One day, upon entering her workroom, she saw a glass container filled with formalin with a lone kidney floating in it. Cudgelling her brain over the cause and purpose of this unusual phenomenon bore no fruit. Only by asking Dottore did she learn that it was a gift and that the organ's purpose was to “cleanse her blood of evil spirits.”

“…Where did you get it?” she asked, unable to fathom where he had come up with such a preposterous idea.

Dottore refused to make eye contact. “Ayaz.”

Bianka looked at him, blinking. Surely it was a joke?

But when she forced a laugh, it quickly became clear it wasn’t as she saw the aforementioned segment holding his side with a displeased grimace on his face.

Dottore intensified their training too. While exercising, he gave her no time for rest but, at the same time, spared no praise. She had already mastered simple punches and stabs. During these training sessions, her encompassing sadness lessened, if only for a bit, driven away by the sense of pride emanating from the Harbinger as he observed her increasingly confident movements.

A week after meeting Columbina, a little more light appeared in Bianka's life – Eymen had returned from his mission. She decided to pay him a visit immediately after work, eager to hear stories about his experiences. She tried not to show impatience – Dottore still didn't know about her friend, and she preferred to keep it that way.

Bianka had travelled the road to Eymen's apartment so many times that she could get there with her eyes closed. At the door, the silhouette of Eymen's fair-haired roommate was not a surprise. He didn't seem bewildered by her presence either, letting her in without hesitation.

What she was not prepared for was the sight that greeted her inside. Eymen was lying on the bed with his eyes closed. Normally, this wouldn’t have caused her concern, but something had changed in the man's appearance. His face was scratched, the marks indicating the use of some kind of sharp weapon or tool. She couldn't see the rest of his body, so she couldn't tell if the wounds also covered his torso and limbs.

Hearing her stand by the bed, Eymen opened his eyes. The skin around his right one was bruised and swollen. Despite the pain he must have felt when moving his face, he smiled. “Bianka, how happy I am to see you!”

Bianka didn’t bother herself with affectionate words. “Eymen, what happened? Did you get in a fight with someone? Or were you attacked?”

Eymen didn’t answer. Still smiling, he sat, gently took her hand, and stroked the back with his thumb. “Don't worry, it's all right. I'm here now, and that's all that matters.” His words, instead of reassuring, worried her even more. Eymen snorted. “I can see that you won’t be convinced so easily. How about a little walk? I’d be happy to get a breath of fresh air.”

She cast her eyes over his wounds once more, then nodded. Having dressed in warm jackets, they left the room together.

Outside, they were greeted by night and silence. Swirling snowflakes fell on their clothes and covered the path with white fluff. In the distance, the lights of the vivarium illuminated the darkness. The sculpture garden was just as deserted as last time but no longer gave a disturbing impression. Dozens of the palace’s windows emanated a soft yellow glow.

Bianka couldn't see their beauty now – her worry was too great.

“Will you tell me what happened?” she insisted.

Eymen smiled, clearly amused by her impatience. “As you know, we were sent on a mission to the west of Snezhnaya.” He bent down to scoop some snow into his gloved hand and spread a thin layer on his face. “It wasn't a big deal; some band of thugs decided to rob the surrounding villages, wreaking havoc in the process. We were to stop them and, if possible, capture and bring them to justice. At first, everything seemed simple, but then one of our scouts discovered that the ring was working with the Hidden Dagger – an organization opposed to Fatui's presence and power. They ordered the bandits to destroy and loot in the hope of getting our attention.”

Bianka had heard of the group. They were the only opposition in the country that posed a real threat to Her Majesty's soldiers. The Hidden Dagger's spy network was comparable to their own and reached into every corner of Snezhnaya. They regularly sabotaged the Fatui's missions, attacked minor camps, and seized supply wagons. She couldn't count how many times a squad had been sent to destroy their headquarters only for them to reappear a short time later in another place.

She shook her head, focusing back on Eymen's words.

“After discussing the situation with the commander, we agreed it would be better to strike before they attacked us. From preliminary estimates, it appeared that our squad was less in number, but we were hoping a surprise attack could tip the odds in our favour. And, at first, it did. We attacked at their base at night, when they weren’t expecting us, and they were scrambling to defend. But then we realised that there were children in the headquarters too. While it wasn’t a big surprise since some Daggers take their families with them if they intend to be away from home for many months, it threw off our plan.”

They turned into one of the alleys. The mighty silhouettes of spruce and fir trees protected them from the falling snow and the gazes of the palace residents.

“So what did you do?” Bianka inquired, scooting closer to absorb his every word.

Eymen sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead with his hand. “We didn’t want to hurt the children. However, we couldn’t give up and run away; we would lose the only advantage over the enemy. That's why we ordered them to keep to the walls or return to their mothers. We couldn't do anything more than draw the fight as far away from the youngsters as possible.” Eymen forced a smile. “Unfortunately, we underestimated their cunningness.”

“How?”

“You see, it turned out that there were also several adult icehooks in the building. Most likely, they wanted to send them at us and then kill all the survivors. One of the children decided to open the cages.”

Bianka shuddered grabbing Eymen’s hand on reflex. The icehooks were smaller relatives of the sabrelions. They got their name from their curved claws, enabling them to walk on ice without slipping. It wasn't hard to recall a large sabrelion stalking in the shadows at Siniy Glaz. Eymen and his companions must have experienced a similar terror in that building.

Eymen squeezed her hand back. “As you can probably guess, it was instant chaos. No one knew who was friend or foe; everyone was simply fighting for their lives. And then, at one point, one of the beasts tried to throw itself at a small boy. A man ran to defend him, but he was injured and couldn't drive the animal away…”

Bianka's eyes widened. “So you…”

“Yes, Bianka,” he confirmed, avoiding eye contact. “I decided to help them. I defended them with my own body, the results of which you can now admire on my face.”

Bianka shook her head as he pointed to the scarred skin. “Why? I admire your courage and good heart, but that man belonged to a hostile group. Why did you decide to help him at the cost of your own health?”

Eymen stopped, staring somewhere in the distance. After a moment of silence, he sighed and turned back to her with a gentle smile. “You see, Bianka, the Fatui teach us that the world is divided into two factions: us and them, black and white. I, however, believe there is more to it than that. Have you ever seen absolute blackness? Or the purest white, without a trace of blemish?” Bianka shook her head. “Exactly. Maybe the world is grey and contains all its shades? And even if I am wrong, there is one absolute truth – sometimes we have to do what we think is right. Even if others would not agree with our decisions.”

Bianka stared at Eymen. The words bounced around in her head, squeezing at her chest, begging to be pondered, sat with, but Eymen gave her no time. He resumed the walk, and Bianka hurried after him.

The rest of the stroll passed in light, pleasant conversation. It was good to forget about duties for a while and knock around with a friend. But unfortunately, before they knew it, it got late and they had to return to the palace. Bianka walked Eymen to the door of his apartment, then returned to her own.

Lying in bed, his words sounded in her head like church organs.

Sometimes we have to do what we think is right. Even if others would not agree with our decisions.

She came to the lab every day and did her work, but it didn't give her the satisfaction it once did. Anxiety was a constant presence in her mind, like a burr that clung to her clothes and wouldn't fall off. A heavy sigh escaped her mouth. She knew what it wanted from her, didn't she? Even though shivers ran through her entire body at the thought, she would not know peace until she tried to help those prisoners again. What if things were different now? Maybe the previous attempt was just an unfortunate twist of fate?

She slapped her cheek. ‘Come to your senses, Bianka! What are you up to again? Weren’t the previous disappointment, despair, and shame enough for you?’ She turned on her side and closed her eyes. Yet, with no small amount of irritation, she could still hear a quiet little voice in her head urge, “But what if…?”

Her eyelids lifted against her will, her gaze wandering to the sky. Distant stars, flashing like light on a sheet of water. The aurora borealis. It didn’t decorate the sky today, but Bianka saw it clearly, as if she herself was dancing on its colourful ribbons. Dark skies… darkness… in the basements. And light. A light that gives hope. Like the glow of the sun, like the twinkling of the stars, like… like…

A spark. A spark in the darkness.

Swear that no matter what life puts in your path, you will not lose that spark.

A lone tear ran down her cheek. What did it mean? Sadness, fear?

Relief?

She wiped it away, and her gaze hardened. ‘Be brave, Bianka,’ she said to herself. ‘Do what you think is right.’

She made her decision. She closed her eyes, cool peace blanketing her heart and thoughts.

****

As Bianka entered the laboratory, she made a beeline for the Doctor bent over some device. He looked quite hilarious with a large magnifying eyepiece and a lamp casting a harsh light from his forehead. Having noticed someone standing next to him, he opened his mouth to greet her, but she didn't let him get a word in.

“Dottore, we need to talk.”

The smile disappeared from his face. He stared at her, stopping his gaze on her clenched lips, then took the eyepiece off his head and stood up. “I can tell from the look on your face that this is not going to be a chat about the weather. Shall we go?”

They set off through the hall along the path next to the walls. In the distance, Ayaz was bragging to other segments about the latest prototype of the robot he had created. Its small size, combined with artificial intelligence, was supposed to improve spying and eavesdropping on enemies. Ayaz exuded pure pride; to witness so much satisfaction in his eyes bordered on the miraculous.

“I won't beat around the bush, Dottore,” Bianka said when Ayaz was out of sight. “I want to get back to working with the test subjects.”

The Doctor looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “Why? From where came this sudden decision? I told you there’s no need for you to descend to the basements.”

“I know, however, I changed my mind,” she replied firmly. “I am a scientist and the right hand of the Second Harbinger. My duty is to assist and help him with his research.”

“And you're doing an excellent job of it up here,” he countered. “You are responsible, helpful, and reliable. The segments praise your diligence and value your sharpness of mind. There is enough work here to keep you busy all the time.”

“I understand, but I daresay there is just as much to do downstairs. Additional help could prove invaluable. Hence my request that I could return to conducting and analysing the results of the experiments.”

Dottore stopped, Bianka a step behind him. After a moment of stillness, he faced her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Listen to me. I’m not sure where your sudden urge came from, but I want you to know one thing – I do not perceive you as a weak person. Test subjects, experiments… I'm the one who chose this path, not you. It's nothing to be ashamed of if you don't want to take part in it.” He shook her slightly to put more emphasis on his words. “You are not weak.”

Bianka looked at him, her face expressing no emotion as his nails dug into her arms. The hairs on the back of Dottore's neck began to stand up. He couldn't remember the last time she had been so impenetrable, and it filled him with anxiety.

She put her hand on his palm. “No, Dottore.” Her voice was quiet but firm. “I am not weak.”

The  Harbinger didn’t move, waiting. Bianka's decision, however, was final, and after a few moments, he sighed and took his hands away, shaking his head. “I still don't understand your decision, but I won't push. If you don't want to or can't give me a proper reason, then don’t.” He glanced towards the door, which had been a taboo subject for the past few days. “Mudry should already be downstairs. If you want, you can help him.”

Bianka nodded, then approached the panel. Although fear still lurked in her soul, she held her head high, her step sure. She took off her glove and extended her hand to press it—

“Wait!”

Bianka jumped, turning to Dottore, who had ran next to her side.

“I'm coming with you,” he continued.

She threw him a sceptical look. This time, it was he who exuded a stubbornness worthy of a Sumerian Sumpter Beast. She didn’t argue. Having put her hand to the panel, the lock clicked. The sound sealed her resolve. Without hesitation, she marched down, hearing Dottore's footsteps behind her.

The gloomy corridor and stone ramp were all too familiar, along with the light note of apprehension that always accompanied her here. Downstairs, they were greeted by Mudry. At the sight of Bianka, he raised one eyebrow and cast a curious glance at Dottore who shrugged his shoulders.

“She insisted,” he explained flatly. “There was no point in stopping her.”

“I want to help you,” Bianka interjected before Mudry could express his own opinion. “Have you already taken care of all the patients, or do you still have some work left?”

The segment looked at her, tilting his head. Finally, he snorted, sending her an amused smile. “I thought I had the time to get to know you well over the past few weeks, yet you still manage to surprise me.” He nodded. “I haven't finished the rounds yet; you can accompany me.”

Bianka reciprocated the smile, a sudden surge of energy and excitement making her fidget. All wasn’t lost yet, hope flaring with a bright flame. She walked through the door towards the cells. Mudry and Dottore threw a look at each other and followed her.

As she entered room after room, she assessed which prisoner had the best chance of a successful escape. This one was weakened, that one too scared, this one not very intelligent, and this one here—

Dottore grabbed her by the arm and pulled her against the wall. Bianka let out a whine of protest, but the Harbinger ignored it.

“Are you feeling unwell?” he asked bluntly. “You are very tense.”

Bianka fell silent. Only now did she notice his tightened lips and pinched eyebrows. Analysing her plan consumed her so much that she completely ignored Dottore, who was watching her body language like a hawk.

“Hey, relax,” she said, trying to calm him. “I'm fine. It's just…excitement.”

“Excitement?” His tone suggested that he didn't believe her. “And what are you excited about now?”

She shrugged. “I don't know. The work, the research, the experiments’ results…”

“Wait a minute. Just yesterday, you didn't even want to go near the test subjects and the underground, and now you're animated by what we're doing here? Forgive me for doubting your words, but you must admit that they can be confusing.”

Bianka shifted nervously on her feet, sweat gathering on the back of her neck.

Fortunately, Mudry approached them, interrupting their conversation. “There is only one patient left.”

The Doctor looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “Which one?”

“Number 9428.”

Dottore massaged his forehead and sighed heavily. “Best at the end like a cherry on top, right?” He turned his gaze back to Bianka. “You stay away from this patient. Best wait for us in the atrium. I'll help Mudry; he can't do it alone.”

Bianka obeyed. Listening to the furious shrieks and curses of the three men coming from the room of the notorious prisoner was quite an attraction. When Dottore and Mudry emerged, they looked as if they had been fighting with a cyclone.

“It's unbelievable that he still has so much energy and will to fight,” Dottore mused. “Even though Seven brought him months ago!”

“Maybe that's a good thing,” Mudry replied. “He is very resilient. Such a test subject is a treasure; when it comes to experiments, we are limited only by our imagination.”

“And reflexes,” he grumbled. “I don't remember anyone who would force me to make such a physical effort first thing in the morning.”

Bianka giggled, drawing attention to herself. Dottore snorted. “First excitement and now making fun of your master. We’ll see if you'll be so smiley during today’s training.”

Her smile quickly turned into a huffy grimace. Perhaps she should have refrained from showing any sign of amusement.

Mudry cleared his throat, cutting the thread of tension forming between Bianka and Dottore. “Today's work in the basement has been completed. At noon we have one surgery scheduled; if you feel up to it, you can accompany us. Or if you prefer to start with something less drastic, Fripon may need help with feeding the patients.”

“Thank you, Mudry, I will try to assist with both procedures,” she replied.

Dottore furrowed his brows. “Don't push yourself. If you overdo it now, the gloomy mood will return, and you wouldn't want that, would you?”

Seeing nothing but hidden concern in the Doctor's eyes, Bianka bowed her head. “You're right. Putting so much on one's plate as long as the body and psyche allow is not the wisest path. Thank you for the warning; I will try to approach this issue with more caution.”

Dottore was unable to hold back a surprised, “Ha!”, taken aback by her words and obedience. He put his hand on her head. “Pursuing a goal in small steps often yields better results than mindlessly throwing yourself into the deep waters.” He pointed to the ramp with his head. “Let’s go back upstairs. You can take care of your own research now, and when the time is right, I’ll send Fripon to get you.”

Bianka nodded, sending him a gentle smile. Dottore and Mudry then disappeared up the ramp, talking about the upcoming surgery, while she stayed behind. Her smile took on a devious note.

‘Great, they don’t suspect anything,’ Bianka thought, glancing towards the door separating the basement from the rest of the lab.

She already had her perfect prisoner.

****

Bianka waited another week before carrying out her plan, so as not to arouse suspicion.

She didn’t stay idle, however, using the extra time to gather the necessary items for the escape, create new concoctions and observe the candidate. Test Subject No. 9428 was aggressive, buzzing with unbridled energy and causing problems at every turn. Each time Mudry or another segment left his cell, they had slightly more dishevelled hair and battered bodies. He was perfect.

There was no way, though, she would be allowed to be alone with him, so she had to be coy about it. On the day she chose, she purposely lingered while making her rounds, slowly falling behind. At first, Mudry offered her his help to speed up the work, but Bianka politely declined, assuring him that she could perfectly manage on her own.

She had to contain a smile when he left the corridor.

Surrounded by cells and their occupants, Bianka ran to the door she was interested in. On contact with her hand, the panel flashed with a luscious green glow. Her legs almost buckled from overwhelming relief – fortunately, Dottore didn't think to take away her access to this room.

When she stepped inside, the prisoner immediately pounced on her. However, having realised that his “guest” was not a dangerous Harbinger, but an inconspicuous girl, he stopped dead in his tracks.

“I knew that that blue-haired monster is a psychopath, but I didn't suspect that he would send me some runt that I could break in half like a dry stick,” he muttered, eyeing her with a look full of disbelief.

Bianka also scanned him from head to toe. He was a stocky man, as broad in the shoulders as Seven. During months of captivity, he had managed to grow a substantial beard, as yellow as his matted hair. He seemed slightly emaciated, but, just as Mudry claimed, a feral fire still burned in his eyes.

Bianka furrowed her brows, sending him a harsh look. “I'm not as weak as you think.”

The man snorted. “Really? Because as far as I can see, I could knock you down with just a blow and run away from this cursed place before you could even lift a finger.”

Bianka crooked her head slightly, then stepped over the threshold of the cell and stood aside. She pointed to the entrance. “You won't have to do that. Go on, be my guest.”

The prisoner blinked. He looked at the open door before shifting his gaze full of suspiciousness to Bianka. “So you're just letting me walk out of here? You're not going to stop me or call in reinforcements?”

Bianka shrugged. “I didn’t come here to fight you. If you think you can leave the basements, defeat the Doctor and his minions, and escape from the palace on your own, then who am I to deter you from it.”

The man hesitated, clearly uncertain on how to proceed. He took a few tentative steps towards the exit and looked out the door. He swept his gaze around the corridor, expecting some kind of a trick. Bianka watched him, curious if he would show such bravado to attempt an escape on his own. However, the man cursed under his breath.

“I don’t know what you demons are up to, but I won’t fall for it!” he growled, retreating inside. “If this is another experiment, I’m not going to be your guinea pig.”

A painful sting made Bianka’s heart skip a beat – Splinter also thought that her willingness to help was just another idea of Dottore. However, she decided to trust Bianka and put her life in her hands. And Bianka wasted it… She shook her head. No, she couldn't think about that now. She must focus on the current task.

“This isn’t an experiment, but my goodwill,” she assured. “Listen to me carefully now. Everything I’ll tell you is true. However, I leave it up to you to decide whether you trust me or not. I can help you leave this place and get to the capital. If you follow my instructions, you won’t have to fight anyone, and the Doctor won’t be looking for you. However, for the plan to succeed, you must do everything I tell you and exactly as I tell you. If you try to act alone or make a mistake, you will die. What do you say to that?”

The man’s disbelief was almost palpable, but the fact that he hadn’t yet attacked her was a success. He frowned. “You want to help me get out of here? And what will you get out of it? I won’t believe you’re doing this out of the goodness of your heart.”

Bianka couldn't hold back a gentle smile. True altruism was a virtue found so rarely that she wasn’t surprised by the prisoner's lack of trust. ‘All right. Then he’ll get what he wants.’

“Let’s just say…” she began. ”…I have some scores to settle with the Doctor. The disappearance of one of his valuable test subjects will come as quite a shock to him.”

A harmless lie, and yet it might help her achieve her goal.

The man tilted his head, analysing her words. “You are risking a lot. If this fails, we will both end up as his test subjects.”

Bianka threw him a hard look. “Don't worry about me. I know the price of my betrayal.”

The prisoner studied her for a long time, his face impenetrable. Had she failed to gain his trust? Perhaps he was going to give up the opportunity and try to face the Second Harbinger alone? She pressed her lips into a thin line, getting ready for a confrontation.

At that moment, however, he extended his hand to her.

“Kaem,” he grumbled. Bianka raised an eyebrow, at which he rolled his eyes. “That’s what they call me. I don’t like to do business with someone whose name I don't even know. So, what do they call you?”

The woman froze, the joy of success rippling through her insides. She smiled and squeezed his hand.

“I’m Spark,” she replied.

****

Bianka explained the plan to him just as she had to Splinter a few weeks ago. She even added one point to increase the chances of success. In addition to the three bottles filled with known substances, she also handed Kaem some drops.

“Before the morning rounds tomorrow, sprinkle your eyes with them,” she instructed. “They will make your conjunctivae bloodshot.” At Kaem’s blank stare, she simplified her language. “The whites of your eyes. If you pretend to be sick, the chance of fooling the Doctor is high. Use the ink and extract the day after tomorrow.”

Having made sure Kaem understood everything, she left his cell and returned upstairs. Now, all that was left for her to do was prepare food, Mora, and clothes and pray that this time her plan would go smoothly.

When she went to the basements the next day, she encountered Dottore and Mudry talking in hushed voices. Pretending to mind her own business, she strained her hearing. Her guess was confirmed – they were discussing Kaem's sudden symptoms. She had gained Kaem’s trust.

Dottore's initial concern gave her hope, but the real panic didn’t erupt until the next day. As she was consulting with him about the choice of reagents, Mudry rushed out of the basement, startling them.

“Sorry, Bianka, I have to speak with Master.”

His terrified face sent shivers of excitement through Bianka’s body as Dottore led him aside. Not even trying to hide her curiosity, she watched the two men. With each feverish word from Mudry, Dottore's face grew paler and paler. His voice was equally alarmed. And then abruptly, they both hurried downstairs.

Bianka wanted to return to her workroom – she found it increasingly difficult to suppress her growing emotions. She didn't even have time to reach the hallway, though, before Dottore returned with a truly ferocious expression on his face.

“Bianka, come here, now!” he shouted.

Bianka froze. He must have discovered her plan since he directed his suspicions towards her without a second thought.

However, when she obeyed the command, the Doctor put his hand to her forehead. “How do you feel?” he asked, pulling her eyelids to inspect her whites. “Are you in pain, do you feel weakened?”

“N-No, everything is fine. What’s wrong? Why are you so uneasy?”

Dottore began feeling her jaw and neck, trying to locate the lymph nodes.

“Dottore—”

“One of the test subjects contracted the Black Death. He died this night.”

Even though she knew the truth, she shivered. The next few minutes would determine the outcome of her intrigue.

“Which one?”

“Number 9428. Thank the gods, you didn't go to his cell, so you should be relatively safe.” He threw her a severe look. “You didn't go, did you?”

She quickly shook her head, not trusting her voice.

“No symptoms of infection in the other test subjects,” Mudry reported, having returned from the basements. “This is a good sign. With luck, we will only lose this patient.”

Despite the positive news, Dottore didn’t look reassured. “I wouldn’t grasp that hope just yet. 9428 hasn’t been out of the complex for many months. If he got sick, the bacteria were brought here from outside.” He sighed heavily as if a huge weight had suddenly fallen on his shoulders. “The Black Death is extremely contagious. We will have to thoroughly disinfect the cells and vaccinate every test subject to limit the spread of germs. In addition, all soldiers currently in the palace will need to be tested for carriers, especially those who have recently returned from missions or have been in the infirmary.”

Bianka swallowed. Who knew that her idea would have such far-reaching consequences?

Dottore stomped his foot, letting out an angry roar. “Why do such situations have to happen to us?! And where did this bacteria even come from? The last known outbreaks are far from here!”

Bianka put her hand on his shoulder, drawing reassuring circles with her thumb. “I'm sorry, Dottore.” For she felt true regret at the thought that she had to cause him so much distress. “We'll deal with it. We just need a good plan.”

Dottore sighed, covering her hand with his own. “You're right, Bianka; there's no need to cry over spilt milk.”

Bianka smiled, trying to take her hand away, but the Doctor didn’t let her go. At that moment, Erva joined them, holding something in his hand.

“You have that?” Dottore asked. Seeing Erva nod, he hummed. “Great, time to get vaccinated.”

Bianka almost tumbled to the floor, attacked by a strong vertigo. ‘Stop panicking,’ she said to herself. ‘This may not apply to you at all.’ However, Dottore's gaze that flicked to her expressed a clear purpose. And why did he still refuse to let her go, even though she tried to jerk her hand out of his grasp?

“Could you repeat that?” she mumbled, her voice threatening to crack. “I think I may have misheard.”

Dottore let out an amused huff. “I don't think so.” The smile disappeared from his face. “You wouldn't want to contract the Black Death yourself, would you? You need to get vaccinated, especially since you've been spending much time underground lately.”

“But when I'm vaccinated!” she screamed at full volume, going pale when she saw in Erva's hand not one, but two(!) syringes. She began to jerk even more violently.

“Forewarned is forearmed; you’ll get a booster dose. Don’t be afraid,” he reassured, seeing her big, terror-filled eyes fixed on the needles, “one injection is for me.”

The momentary consternation didn’t help with controlling her phobia. How could it, when she was about to face the very source of her fear?

“But—"

“No buts!” Dottore snarled. “Don't act like a damsel in distress, it will be over soon. Seven, hold her!”

Before she could take even one step, she found herself in the roaring with laughter segment’s embrace. Seven seated her on his lap, pressed her against his chest so that she couldn’t move her arms, and put her head in the bend of his neck with his other hand.

“Don’t fret, Bianka!” he laughed in her ear. “I’m sure you won't feel anything. And later, I’ll tousle you so hard you’ll forget the whole incident!”

The provisory “fetters” combined with Dottore's experience in dealing with difficult patients made the vaccination go surprisingly smoothly. Although, in place of one, two screams echoed in the hall – one from Bianka’s and the other from Seven’s throat, when the woman left teeth marks on his neck that might suggest a completely different activity from what actually took place.

The frown that contorted Bianka’s face after the whole incident suggested she didn’t want anyone to approach her. Only Seven didn’t read the signals correctly. While the other segments took a step back, he tried to “tousle” Bianka as he had promised. Little came of his efforts; he himself ended up with a second set of Bianka’s dental imprint, this time on the back of his hand.

“Master, what should we do with the body?” Mudry said, returning to the subject. “I would advise against dissecting the body to prevent the spread of pathogens.”

Bianka did an internal dance of happiness. At last, everything was going her way!

Dottore bared his teeth and growled. “You’re right, the body must be disposed of as soon as possible.”

“In that case, shall we take it to the mortuary?”

Dottore shook his head. “That won’t be enough. The plague could spread to the gravediggers and then, all over Snezhnaya. No, the body must be cremated.”

Something in Bianka’s mind glitched. Her ears were filled with a steady hum.

“Of course, I'll take care of it right away,” Mudry assured.

“No, I need you downstairs. The rest of the test subjects need to be vaccinated. Alas, we won't be sure that no one will get sick again; these bacteria are devilishly insidious.” He turned his head to the younger segment standing aside. “Ayaz will take care of the body.”

Ayaz shot the Doctor a disbelieving look. While he expressed his displeasure, asking, “Why should I be the one to take care of someone else's corpse again?”, Bianka tried not to lose consciousness. Cremate the body? No, this wasn't happening. Surely she was just dreaming; she would soon wake up from this nightmare in her warm bed and breathe a sigh of relief. But why did everything around her seem so real?

“Enough of this!” Dottore roared, interrupting Ayaz's complaints. “You will do as I say, otherwise half the palace will die out within the next week! Mudry, come down with me, Ayaz, take the body away, Fripon,” he crushed the segment with a deadly look, “Erva, and Seven, don’t interfere. And Bianka, go back to your workroom and don’t move from there until I say it’s safe. Understood?”

Despite quiet groans and turning noses, everyone obeyed the order. Bianka dragged her feet to the smaller laboratory, assaulted by a sense of unreality. Was her attempt to save a life about to take it instead again?

Kurage was running on a wheel but stopped when she entered the room. She approached him and held out her hand. The mouse stepped on it without hesitation.

“Oh, Kurage, why must life be so cruel?” she wailed. “Are we really doomed to evil? I just wanted to help.” Her voice began to crack. “I felt sorry for these poor people; I was unable to look at their suffering. It was so close, almost done! And yet, again, I didn’t foresee all the possibilities. And now Kaem will be burned.”

Bianka fell silent, sitting like this and stroking Kurage, who bore into her with red eyes. She sank deeper and deeper into herself. Sadness started engulfing her slowly, increasing with each second, until it consumed her almost complet—

A scream ripped forcefully from her throat. Stunned, she looked at Kurage, who had just bitten her hand. Hard.

“Hey, that hurt!” she shouted. Kurage answered her with an equally enraged squeal. What an audacious mouse! This is what she gets in return for the care she spread over him—?

She froze. Kaem was about to be burned. Kaem, a prisoner with an unwavering will to fight and to live; Kaem, who trusted her to get him out of this hell, was to be…

…burned.

Bianka sprang to her feet and slammed herself on the cheek. She had to rescue him! Her feverish eyes swept around the room. By the Seven Archons, she had no time for further preparations! She had to grab what she had and move without delay! Having put Kurage on the table, she dashed to one of the cabinets storing a bag filled with food, Mora, and clothes. Without hesitating, she ran out of the room.

‘I beg, let it not be too late!’ She had already wasted enough time wallowing in despair.

Someone was in the main hall. Thank the gods, Ayaz hadn’t yet left for the mortuary, deep in discussion with Seven at one of the tables. Seven pointed to the machine he was working on, showing Ayaz specific parts. Apparently, he decided to consult with him quickly, before Ayaz was…busy. But unfortunately, it looked like they were already finishing; she had little time.

Fripon was also present. He was standing not far from the corridor to her workroom, a screwdriver in hand, and… singing? Yes, he really was singing (although his skills left much to be desired), pretending that the screwdriver was a microphone. Right next to him was a workbench and Ayaz’s robot.

Bianka took another look around. Dottore and Mudry were in the basements, and she couldn't see Erva. Good, the less, the better. Her overriding goal now was to distract Ayaz so that she could get to Kaem unhindered. Only how to do that? She couldn't simply call out to him or ask another segment to pester him since she was still ordered to wait in her lab. She had to remain unnoticed.

Just then, her gaze fell on Ayaz’s robot. A new idea dawned in her mind. What if…? Ayaz would be furious, and she’ll feel awful later, but this might be the only solution.

Could she hide behind the table? No, that wasn’t a good idea. When the others approach her hiding place, she won't be able to slip away unnoticed. She looked up. Roughly above the table she was interested in was a metal platform, wrapping around the room. The stairs to it were far enough from the three segments to enter it unnoticed. The platform was a little too overhanging, but if she leaned out enough…

There was no time to devise another plan; she had to act. Bianka corrected her grip on the bag – she couldn't leave it here, as she wouldn't be able to return for it – and walked out of the corridor, quickly dropping to her knees as she kept close to the wall. She approached the table on all fours and, when Fripon wasn't looking, grabbed the first metal object she could reach. A large battery. It covered the entire surface of her palm and was quite heavy. Perfect.

Mindful of the segments, she reached the stairs. Unfortunately, they were built of a metal grid, just like the platform, so she had to take careful, light steps. Eventually, however, she safely reached the upper level. A view of the entire hall stretched from here.

The hairs on her nape stood up. Ayaz had finished his discussion with Seven and was already heading towards the operating theatre. She had to hurry, now!

Trying to tread lightly, she reached a spot just above the table. Having placed her bag on the ground, she took the battery in both hands and leaned over the railing. She positioned herself roughly above the robot.

‘I'm sorry, Ayaz. And you too, Fripon.’

Bianka held her breath and released the battery.

She didn't look to see if she had hit. Instead, she fell against the grating and crawled as close to the wall as possible to remain unnoticed.

Had the robot been completed, her plan would have failed. But in its current state, without reinforcements or full armour, it was still fragile, and the structure inside – delicate. That's why a second later, a sharp clang, followed by the clatter of scattering metal, resounded in the hall. Through holes in the grille, she could see that all that was left of Ayaz's robot, his pride, and source of happiness, was a tangle of cables, lone screws, and chunks of metal plates.

Ayaz, who was already disappearing behind the door, turned abruptly. When he saw the source of the terrible noise, he went rigid, shifting his gaze to Fripon, who was still holding a screwdriver. The boy looked at him, his eyes big as saucers.

With a chilling howl, Ayaz stomped to the table. “You think you're such a sharp cookie, such a smarty, that you destroyed my work?! That others will look at you with admiration and recognition?!”

Ayaz could be annoyed but rarely enraged. Now, however, sheer fury was emanating from his entire figure. He was panting heavily like a blacksmith’s bellows, madness lurking in his eyes. Even Fripon, who didn't care about anything and went through life with a sly smile, cowered now, looking at him with big eyes.

“B-but it wasn’t me who did it.”

“Not you?! So who? The spirit of the dead prisoner?” Ayaz gritted his teeth. “You have gotten away with your antics too many times. But you won’t escape the punishment now.”

Ayaz raised his hand as if to strike Fripon, who blenched even more, burying his head in his arms. However, before anything could happen, Seven grabbed Ayaz’s forearm.

“Come to your senses; he’s just a child!”

“A child who turned my most important work into a pile of scrap!”

“Fripon is known for his mischief, but he never crosses a certain line. I’m sure he did it unintentionally. Right?” He shot Fripon a meaningful look. Fripon nodded his head vigorously.

Ayaz wasn’t convinced by this.

“Someone has to pay for destroying the robot!” he shouted. “I didn't work so hard on it for some brat to destroy—!

The argument heated up for good. This was a good sign – their bickering could drag on mercilessly long, which meant Bianka could take care of Kaem unhindered. Rising slowly, she directed her steps back towards the stairs. Just then, however, Ayaz shrieked with rage and began walking back and forth through the hall. Bianka stopped. She couldn't risk being seen in his fury. Not only would she be detected, but all the anger would be transferred to her. Would anyone even stand for her in that situation? Bianka didn't want to find out.

But how to get down now? She couldn’t stay here until Ayaz calmed down or focused back on the segments! She had to act now when their attention was diverted from Kaem. Unfortunately, there was no other way to get off the platform. She could only walk past the wall strewn with ruin machines, the sitting grader, over the tables with—

She froze, glancing at the large machine sitting in the corner of the room. A completely insane idea came to her mind. She would most likely fall and kill herself on the way, and the lab would record not one, but two (or three, if Ayaz got his way and decimated Fripon) deaths that day. She had to try, however; it was her only hope.

Hearing the enraged screams below her, she ran to the grader. Its head was a little too low, but bough-like outgrowths protruded above the platform. They had a lot of crevices and splits, so, if she was careful, she should be able to climb down. Bianka took several deep breaths, preparing for what was to come.

And then, throwing her bag over her shoulder, she jumped.

Landing on the railing, she pressed her feet against it and stood on its other side, just above the gap. As she glanced down, a sharp dizziness attacked her, her heart experiencing a sudden tachycardia. She closed her eyelids. ‘Focus on the task. It will be fine, just be careful.’

Having regained enough courage to open her eyes again, she glanced behind her at the bough. It wasn’t far away. With some hesitation, she let go of the railing with one hand, reached as far as she could, and encircled the minor protuberance with her forearm. Feeling that the grip was strong, she quickly shifted her leg and hit the bough. She hovered, bracing with one leg against the railing and the other against the grader. Below her were the quarrelling segments. Shifting her body weight to her arm around the grader, she moved her other hand to the machine and then, using the momentum, tore her leg off the railing and threw it over the bough’s split.

A success – she was already on the machine and hadn’t yet killed or permanently damaged herself. Now, all she had to do was climb down it. Using the strength she had gained from the hard training, she made her way to the other side of the bough and from there to one of the large bolts connecting the robotic arm to the torso. She placed her foot on the slippery surface of the grader's head. Slowly, she shifted her weight on—

Her foot slipped, and Bianka lost support. At the last moment, she managed to cling to the bolt, so she didn't fly down to meet her untimely death (or at least the operating table). Alas, her knees hit the metal with a bang. She went rigid, trying not to scream. Her heart was fluttering like a caged animal. She cast a horrified glance at the segments. Luck favoured her today, however, for none of them paid any attention to her – Ayaz was too busy trying to murder Fripon, and Seven was stopping him from meeting this target.

Bianka breathed a sigh of relief. She was much more careful this time. Sliding from her head onto the robot’s torso, she stepped down onto its powerful leg and then onto the lab’s floor. Her legs were trembling like jelly, her breath rushing faster than a terrified doe as she looked around. The machine’s silhouette protected her from the segments’ eyes. Only a dozen steps were separating her from the door leading to the operating theatre. Keeping close to the wall, she reached the passage, disappearing inside before anyone had time to notice her unwanted presence.

A lone bed was standing right next to the entrance to the mortuary, where the crematorium was most likely located. The body was covered with a white sheet. When Bianka pulled it back, she saw a sleeping Kaem. His cold skin, covered with black spots, and undetectable breathing could be very deceiving. Bianka reminded herself that he only looked dead. She patted her pocket. Fortunately, the bottle with the awakening agent was in its place. Without hesitating any longer, she pushed the bed towards the mortuary.

The underground passage was deserted. Ignoring the shivers creeping up her spine, she went deeper, the hospital bed creaking on the uneven ground. A glance at the disturbingly quiet mortuary reassured her that there wasn’t a living soul here either. She stopped the bed against one of the walls and took a medicine from her pocket. Pouring it down Kaem's throat was out of the question if she didn’t want it to enter his respiratory tract.

Swallowing, she extracted a syringe from her other pocket. It didn't matter that she wasn't the one to be stabbed; the mere sight of the sharp needle made her dizzy. She fixed the needle on the syringe and took the medicine, then stood over Kaem with an uncertain face. ‘A disinfectant would be useful,’ she thought. ‘Maybe they have a spirit around here somewhere. Those cabinets over there look promis—'

‘Shit.’

Standing at the door, Erva stared at her with silent horror. A similar feeling was surely being painted on her face, the syringe almost falling out of her hands. A tingling sensation passed through her fingers as if there was sand shifting inside. What should she do? Lie? Give up? She tried to say something, anything, but not even a single word came out of her mouth.

Erva was the first to come to his senses.

“I saw you walking briskly to the theatre,” he muttered. “You didn't notice me. I thought you might need help…”

Bianka swallowed nervously. “No, I just…” She looked at Kaem's calm face as if the solutions to her problems were engraved on it. However, there was only a void in her head.

Erva cautiously walked closer, glancing at the sleeping man out of the corner of his eye. Had he connected with Dottore yet? Did he tell him that Bianka disobeyed his instructions?

“He is not dead at all, is he?”

His eyes were so penetrating; she had no chance of deceiving him. Bianka lowered her head and hummed affirmatively. Now it will begin. She wondered if Dottore would take Kaem back to the basements or maybe kill him on the spot and use her as a new subject.

Erva’s palm brushed the hand in which she was holding the syringe. “Give it to me,” he ordered. The last ray of hope inside Bianka died with a sad hiss. “You won't be able to do the injection yourself; your hands are shaking too much.”

At first, Bianka didn’t understand what he meant. Only after a while did she realise that Erva didn’t intend to get rid of the syringe. Instead, the segment moved her gently to have more room for manoeuvring and stood by Kaem.

When he directed the needle, Bianka seemingly woke up. “Maybe you need to disinfect…” She almost laughed. Was that truly the first thing that came to her mind?

Erva looked at her and shook his head. “We don’t have time; Ayaz can come at any moment.”

Before Bianka had time to say anything more, the needle plunged into Kaem's arm. They waited. For a full minute, which seemed like an eternity under the current circumstances, nothing happened. But then, the prisoner's breathing deepened, and his skin warmed. After another minute, Kaem lifted his eyelids. He was far from fully conscious, however. His eyes wandered over the surroundings without a trace of comprehension.

Bianka came closer and patted him lightly on the face. “Kaem, can you hear me? You need to wake up; we don't have much time.”

Kaem stared at her with half-closed eyes, understanding slowly returning to them. He coughed several times, gripping his throat. His hand was shaking like a flag fluttering in the wind.

“Water…” he choked out. Bianka grabbed the bag and pulled out a full waterskin. Helping him raise his head, she poured some of the liquid into his mouth. The man choked but started greedily swallowing more gulps a moment later.

Thanks to the invigorating water, Kaem managed to regain some of his strength. Supported by Bianka and Erva, he sat down on the edge of the bed. Only then did he realise the presence of the segment. Bianka saw the seed of terror in his eyes.

“No, don't panic, please,” she rushed to calm him down. “Erva is with us. He helped me wake you up.”

Erva waved his hand and smiled shyly, showing he had no bad intentions.

Kaem eyed him for a few more seconds, then lowered his gaze. “Where are we?”

“In the mortuary; from here, we’ll get you outside,” Bianka explained. Seeing him trembling, she brought a jacket and pants. “Here, get dressed.”

While Kaem put on the clothes, Bianka got more and more anxious. They didn't have much time left. The prisoner was still weakened, so he couldn’t act quickly. They could only hope they would make it before Ayaz arrived.

As soon as Kaem was able to stand on his feet, they led him out of the room through the gravedigger's door. The cool night air froze their faces and invigorated their minds. There was no sign of soldiers or guards in sight; only an ice desert stretching out for miles.

Suddenly, Kaem stopped. Bianka glanced at him, horrified that he was fainting and couldn’t go any further. However, what she saw made her heart beat harder. The man gaped his mouth, watching the wide world with sparkling eyes. His disbelief was so strong that he lost his tongue. He looked like a man who had regained his sight after years of blindness.

Then, his face lit up with a beautiful, sincere smile. And Bianka realised that everything she had gone through herself was worth it. Suffering, fear, despondency, desperation… All that seemed unimportant in the face of this touching moment.

Erva interrupted their moment of awe. He threw her an urgent look. Bianka understood the message.

“Kaem, listen to me.” Kaem turned his eyes to her, tears of happiness sparkling like twinkling stars. She lowered her gaze; otherwise, she would come apart herself. She pointed along the wall of the palace. “If you go that way, you will come across supply carts. Hide in one of them, and if you sit still and quiet, tomorrow, you will already be in the capital. Take this sack; there’s some food and Mora in it. You’ll have to take care of the rest yourself.”

Kaem accepted the item but didn’t go immediately. He stared at Bianka, his gaze full of boundless gratitude. Finally, he broke into a run without uttering a single word. Bianka didn’t resent him for not thanking her – the look he gave her told her everything she might have wanted to hear.

Suddenly, a loud bellow reached her ears – not caring if anyone could hear it, Kaem shouted with happiness, stirring up clouds of snow behind him. Bianka let tears flow down her cheeks. She started laughing along with him.

“Good luck, and may the eternal blizzards move from your path,” she whispered.

Erva walked to Bianka and put his arm around her. While the wind tugged at their clothes and the snow creaked underfoot, they watched the joy of a man who had finally regained his freedom after months of pain and suffering.

Chapter Text

“We have to go back, Bianka,” Erva spoke. “Before Ayaz realises something is wrong.”

Bianka snapped to and nodded, before they both hurried to the mortuary without looking back. Kaem was clever. With a bit of luck, he should make it safely to the capital. Unfortunately, though, they wouldn’t be able to find out if he was up to the task without arousing Dottore’s suspicions. The chapter of their shared history had come to an end.

“Go back to your workroom before anyone notices your absence,” Erva suggested. “I’ll try to get to the tablet.”

“The tablet?”

“Connected to Kaem’s transmitter,” he clarified. Bianka blinked, stomach dropping. How she had even forgotten such an issue? Without Erva, everything would have been over in a blink of an eye. “I’ll have to turn it off and delete the data so that Dottore doesn’t come across a trace of our friend in the capital.”

Bianka agreed.

When they reached the mortuary, Erva headed towards the corridor. Bianka watched him, tension coiled in every ounce of her body, until suddenly, her body moved on its own accord, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Thank you, Erva,” she murmured as he froze, his face a personification of silent horror. “I know that this decision must have cost you a lot. I’ll never forget what you did for me today.”

Erva opened his mouth as if to reply, but it seemed his voice had decided to go on impromptu holidays.

It didn’t matter. He had done so much for her, and there was so much more Bianka wanted to say but didn’t had the time to. So she kissed him on the cheek instead, making Erva’s legs almost refuse to obey as well.

“Are you okay?” she laughed, supporting him just in time.

“Y-Yes.”

“Let’s get out of here before we get caught, yeah?”

Bianka pulled him towards the door. She reached for the handle…

…which twitched with a quiet click.

The earlier tension squeezed her chest with redoubled force. Erva managed to shove her under the table next to her just before the door opened.

“What are you doing here?” Ayaz’s tone of voice suggested that he was still angered by the situation with the robot. “And where is the body?”

“I-I just…” he stammered, shifting nervously on his feet. Bianka held her breath, heart pounding. They made it at the last moment! If the rescue operation had taken even a minute longer, she would have been caught. Now it was only up to Erva whether this state would remain. “I came across the body in the operating theatre. T-thought I’d help you and take care of it myself.”

“Oh yeah?” Ayaz drawled, narrowing his eyes. “And you did take care of it?”

Erva swallowed. “Yes. See, the body is no longer there; it has been cremated.”

He pointed to the empty bed.

Ayaz didn’t speak for a very long time. From Bianka’s position, she couldn’t see his face, making it impossible to determine whether he trusted Erva’s words. With each passing second, the flame of her hope diminished and diminished until only a lone photon remained. She squeezed her eyelids shut.

Ayaz sighed. “I have neither the time nor the want for your inept games. I don’t care if you actually burnt the body, threw it in some ditch, or gave it to a wild icehook to devour. If it’s gone, the job is done.”

Relief punched Bianka in the stomach, leaving her breathless. She had to refrain from letting out a shout of joy, contenting herself with a triumphant clenching of her fists and a silent “Yes!” Somewhere above her, Erva laughed shyly.

“Come on,” Ayaz muttered, retreating into the corridor, “there’s nothing left for us here. We’ll tell Dottore he needn’t bother with the corpse anymore.”

The segments left the room. Bianka waited a few more minutes, listening to the retreating footsteps, before stepping out from under the table. The sigh of relief she took was so big that her lungs constricted with pain. Then, taking one last look around the empty mortuary, she left the room and bolted down the corridor to the laboratory.

With each step, the earlier euphoria and adrenaline slowly left her, giving way to exhaustion. Rescuing at least one prisoner was cleansing for her soul, but it didn’t magically cure the fatigue and gloom that had followed her for weeks. One event couldn’t have got such power, but it at least was an important step on the road to regaining her former self.

Staggering on her feet, she reached the hall. Seven and Fripon were busy picking up the scattered parts of Ayaz’s robot, so engrossed in their task that they didn’t even notice her. It wasn’t until she almost disappeared in the corridor leading to her workroom that Seven raised his head.

“Hey, Bianka, what were you…” He fell silent, noticing her tired eyes and hunched figure. He furrowed his eyebrows. “Are you feeling unwell? You look depressed.” His face twisted in concern. “You’re not sick, are you?”

Bianka shook her head. “Nothing of the sort, I just need to rest.”

The segments walked closer, not taking their concerned gaze off her.

“Maybe it’s an adverse reaction after the vaccine,” Seven mused. “Some people feel certain side effects…”

“Is Bianka dying?” Fripon asked. The note of fascination in his voice was quite disturbing.

“Of course not! Bianka will have a two-hour nap and be as good as new!” The segment turned to her. “Why don’t you lie down in the room with the beds and rest for a while? Apparently, Dottore was taking naps in Siniy Glaz while you were slaving like an ox. If I were you, I would take advantage of this opportunity.”

Despite her fatigue, Bianka smiled. “Yes, I think I will,” she said, looking at Seven with gratefulness, “but there is one more thing I need to address before then.”

Seven frowned. “Is it a matter of urgency? Maybe you could deal with it later? You look like you’re falling off your feet.”

Bianka shook her head. “No, I have put it off for far too long. This day didn’t start happily, but it doesn’t have to end like this too.” She smiled. “It’s about time I gave you a name.”

Seven bulged his eyes, speechless as Fripon exclaimed and began to jump.

“A-Are you sure?” Seven stammered. “I mean… it’s a real honour for me, but if you’re too tired, we can do it later…”

“Stop whining!” Fripon snapped, bursting with new energy. “You still want to be some stupid number? I’m surprised you’ve lasted this long in the first place!”

Bianka laughed. “Fripon’s right; it’s undignified to ‘be some stupid number’ for such a long time.”

“We need to summon everyone!” Fripon continued. “They need to witness your baptism.”

Seven snorted with laughter too, relaxing his muscles. “We can summon Erva and Ayaz but leave Mudry and Dottore alone. They need to keep their focus. We will tell them when they are done.”

Fripon’s eyes glazed over. A moment later, the other two appeared. Ayaz seemed to have to cool down finally (although at the sight of the indefinable pile of iron, his eyes were obscured by a red haze), while Erva seemed to be masking any nervousness about his and Bianka’s earlier tryst.

Bianka stood in front of Seven, who was fidgeting on his feet. “Seven,” she began in a solemn tone. He looked at her with nervous excitement. “You have great courage and fortitude, and your strength is second to none. In tribute to these noble qualities, from now on, we will call you Richard. Do you accept your new name?”

For a good ten seconds, Seven didn’t say a word. Bianka frowned. Had she said something wrong? Maybe the name didn’t suit him, but he was afraid to say so? But then, she noticed tears welling up in his eyes – he was so overcome by emotion that he pressed his lips together to keep from bursting out crying.

Seven bowed his head. “Thank you, that’s a really beautiful name. I will carry it with pride.”

It was time to celebrate. Fripon began chanting Richard’s name, encouraging others to do the same. After only a moment, the whole hall resounded with joyful cheers.

The newly christened Richard guffawed, scratching his head.

“Well, now that the ceremony is over, you can go and rest,” he said, changing the subject.

Bianka smiled and nodded. “A little sleep will do me good.” She turned away, adding as she left, “But don’t eat all the sweets you have been hoarding in your joyful frenzy. I don’t want to hear your grumbles that you have nothing left.”

While Richard was proudly repeating his new name, Bianka passed the door to the underground and headed for the bedroom. The unusually wide selection of beds made her dizzy. Closing the door behind her, she removed her apron and lay down on the mattress, her eyes sticky from exhaustion. Falling asleep has never been so easy.

For a hospital bed, it was surprisingly comfortable. Bianka slept soundly for a full hour. Then, however, she began to wriggle as something squeezed and pinched her. She opened her sleepy eyes, trying to discern anything in the dark room.

A shudder ran through her body. Right next to her lay Fripon. The boy snuggled into her stomach and chest, his arms wrapped around her waist. He looked as if he was asleep. His sole presence was surprising, but it didn’t end there, for she felt something pressing against her back as well. She turned her head to see that a sleeping Erva was lying on the edge of the mattress, embracing her as if protecting some secret treasure.

Bianka hesitated. Should she do anything at all? Tap them, shout, or maybe just lay down and act like nothing was wro—

Drat!

Erva furrowed his eyebrows and slowly opened his eyes. For a few seconds, he stared into her curious eyes with blissful serenity. Then, however, the cogs in his head began to work again. His eyes grew larger and larger, while clarity returned to his sleepy mind.

Suddenly, he bolted out of bed as if struck by electricity and dashed towards the door. Unfortunately, his vehemence was too great – a loud bang echoed in the room as he smashed into the doorway. Bianka moved to get out of bed and help him, but Fripon held her tight. Erva rose from the ground and, without looking back, ran out into the corridor.

Bianka stared at the door. Should she run after him? Calm and reassure him that everything was alright?

Then, she felt Fripon pull her back onto the mattress.

“Don’t pay him any mind,” he muttered, smiling under his breath. “Erva is still a coward; your words won’t change anything.”

Uncertainty and confusion gnawed at Bianka’s insides. Fripon, however, was holding her in an iron grip, disproportionate to his small size. Aware she didn’t stand a chance with him, Bianka laid down again. After a few minutes, they were both asleep, serene silence returning to the room.

****

After Kaem’s alleged death, Dottore was as tense as a string, and the slightest inconvenience could almost drive him to fury. His nervousness was so big that he almost didn’t note Richard’s new name. The segment looked surprisingly downhearted by it. Only when Bianka scolded Dottore did he go, groaning and grumbling under his breath, to congratulate Richard on this significant part of his life.

Bianka herself managed to hold onto some of the inner peace she regained, and the constant stress eased. Two days after rescuing the prisoner, she was walking down the corridor, returning from an afternoon tea at Lady Columbina’s. The Harbinger had maintained the same level of unfathomable mystery as when they first met. She squealed with delight the moment she saw Bianka, sensing her change of mood. As a result, the tea went on in a very pleasant atmosphere, their laughter carrying down the corridor.

Having passed a corner, she stopped – just several steps ahead was Lord Pantalone. Her initial surprise quickly turned into undisguised joy. Regrator’s back was to her, so he couldn’t see her big smile. Bianka tensed her muscles, preparing to run up and say hello, but hesitated, furrowing her brows. There was something wrong with Pantalone’s gait – slow and unsteady. His legs trembled with each step, and his shoulders were slouched. 

Bianka’s anxiety soared.

“Lord Pantalone?” she spoke. The Harbinger didn’t take notice of her. Strong shivers bolted down her spine. “What’s going on, my lord? How can I help you?”

She ran up to Pantalone who stopped and slowly turned his head. Bianka froze. Dilated pupils, a sweat-slicked forehead and strange, sickly blue skin. Breathing heavily, Pantalone opened his mouth—

Suddenly, he gripped his head, wobbled and slid down the wall to the floor.

Bianka’s legs bent in horror. She slumped down next to the banker who looked as if he was slowly beginning to lose touch with reality.

“Can you hear me!?” she shouted, patting him on the cheek. “What happened? Did someone hurt you?”

Relative consciousness returned to the Harbinger’s eyes. “Do…”

Bianka shook her head. “I don’t understand. Am I supposed to do something?”

Pantalone swallowed his saliva. She could see that it had cost him a lot of effort.

“Dot…” he repeated. This time Bianka understood. The corridor they were in could be used to get to the laboratory. It was probably where Lord Pantalone was heading, seeking medical attention. Unfortunately, a sudden malady had caught up with him earlier.

Regrator made a muffled sound, as if he was choking. Bianka moved away at the same moment he bent over and vomited in the place where she had just crouched. A flash of the whites of his eyes was the last thing she saw, before he collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

“Help! Someone help me!” she screamed with all the strength in her lungs. Fortunately, they weren’t far from the main hall, so someone must have heard them.

She wasn’t mistaken, as a pattering of shoes resounded on the marble stairs and then on the carpet. Two men appeared in Bianka’s field of vision. She bulged her eyes, for the mysterious saviours turned out to be Eymen’s flatmate and his equally simple-minded friend. At the sight of their unconscious lord, they both stopped dead in their tracks.

Well, never look a gift horse in the mouth.

“You!” She pointed at the flatmate. “Run to the infirmary and call the medics. And you – stay with Lord Regrator and observe his condition. I’ll bring Lord Dottore.”

Without waiting for their reply, she dashed down the corridor. Her steps were so fast that everything at the peripheries of her vision was just a blur of blue and grey.

“Dottore! Mudry!” she howled as soon as she was in the hall.

Richard heard her feverish voice and raised his head. “Bianka, hey, relax a little! Why are you so—”

“I need Dottore or Mudry now! Do you know where they are?”

Richard frowned. “If memory serves me correctly, they had some enhancements scheduled for today. They’re probably in—"

Before he finished, Bianka ran towards the operating theatres. She had to hurry. If they’ve already started to “enhance” a soldier… no force will be able to tear them away from it.

The “enhancement” is probably the most distinctive and unusual operation that is performed in the Doctor’s laboratory. And not just because the patient who makes it to its end is much stronger, more agile and more resilient than any ordinary human being. It is the process itself that evokes the biggest stir.

It goes on like this:

In the circular room, there is what Bianka called the Spider – a sphere-shaped machine from which a multitude of needle-tipped tubes come off. The mixture of substances that is hidden inside the Spider’s abdomen is Dottore’s closely guarded secret. Plunged into a deep, chemical sleep, the soldier is connected to the tubes and suspended by straps some half a metre above the ground. Then, Dottore, Mudry, and Ayaz connect him to a blood pressure monitor, ECG, EEG, and every other possible health-monitoring device and walk away to panels, screens, and scanners set up around the room. After this initial preparation, the patient looks like a voodoo doll that someone abused for several hours, while the first drops of sweat begin to appear on the men’s foreheads and temples.

Finally, Dottore presses the button that starts the procedure.

And the fun begins.

Chaos. That’s the first word that comes to mind when observing the procedure. Complete chaos, a fever, sheer madness. Why? In order to understand this, it is necessary to know the main drawback of the “enhancement.” The fluid in the Spider’s abdomen, which is responsible for the transformation of the soldier, carries with it a multitude of side effects. Arrhythmias, fluctuations in blood pressure, lowered convulsive threshold, internal haemorrhages… Everyone who saw the whole list would grab their head. For this reason, the patient has to be constantly monitored and, when any parameter starts to deviate from the norm, instantly rebalanced.

Dottore, Ayaz, and Mudry stand by the monitors and keep watch. When one of the screens starts flashing red and howling like a police siren, the man closest to it heads towards the patient to remedy the problem. And he doesn’t do it by strolling to them, no! He rushes, darts towards the patient, almost kills himself on the way as if he were being chased by a hundred thousand revengeful demons, for the parameters could change in a split second.

If he manages to get there in time, the disaster can be averted. However, when one dilemma disappears, another one can immediately lift its head – the segment that is at the patient’s side has left its post, and now no one is guarding it. The balance is very fragile; at any moment, it could crumble like a house of cards. Therefore, the other two are trying to keep an eye on their stations and the monitors of the absent companion.

Bianka had the “pleasure” of participating in it once. The whole procedure lasted less than thirty minutes, though she would be just as exhausted if half a day had passed instead. It was one of the most stressful and filled with strange madness moments of her life. Every minute dragged on, extended even – as if it wanted to sap the last remnants of her energy and sanity. The sudden movements of Dottore or any of the segments knocked down sheets of paper, test tubes, and surgical instruments so that the floor soon resembled a minefield. However, she also couldn’t help but admire their agility and focus. She would never forget how the enhanced soldier suffered internal bleeding, and Dottore, not hesitating even for a second, cut him open, got rid of the problem, and closed the wound up, all in precisely twenty-one seconds.

When the longed-for end of the whole procedure finally came, the room resembled a battlefield over which passed a thunderstorm. After bandaging the soldier’s wounds caused by the enhancement, the four of them left the room, sat down on a bench next to the door and stayed motionless in a catatonic-like state, staring dully into space, while Fripon tried to bring the resulting Armageddon to relative order. They couldn’t rest for long, however. After all, it was rare for only one enhancement to occur during a day.

Fortunately, Dottore and the others were experienced enough that they rarely lost a patient, even with all the craziness. And Bianka didn’t fancy being the one to cause death by her interference, so she rushed at break-neck speed to get there before the procedure started.

“No, stop!” she shouted at full volume as Dottore was a hair’s breadth away from hitting the start button. Alarmed, Mudry and Ayaz raised their heads.

“For the love of Tsaritsa, Bianka, have you lost all your senses?!” Dottore snapped, recoiling as if struck by electricity. He pointed at the door with a sweeping motion of his hand. “Get the hell out of here; we’re busy!”

“But this is an emergen—”

“Which can wait! I’ll say it one last time, get out and wait for me in the co—"

“Pantalone is dying!”

That managed to get the Doctor’s attention. He froze, then turned to her, narrowing his eyes. “What did you say?”

His eyes showed a lack of understanding. It was as if, in Dottore’s perception, the words “Pantalone” and “die” couldn’t be used in the same sentence. She had to give more specifics.

“When I was returning to the laboratory, I met Lord Pantalone. His skin was pale blue, and he looked very ill. Eventually, he collapsed and lost consciousness. You have to help him. He’ll die otherwise!”

Dottore seemed to wake up. “I’m suspending the procedure until I return,” he said to the segments, before walking briskly towards the door. “Lead the way, Bianka!”

Without waiting for him to join her, Bianka rushed back into the corridor where she had left Pantalone, snatching her mask and cloak along the way. The loud clatter of Dottore’s boots echoed just behind her, both speeding down at a pace she didn’t previously know she could manage.

Dottore grabbed her arm when they made it to the main hall. “Which corridor?” As soon as Bianka answered, he shot up the stairs like a bullet from a riffle. His stamina and long legs allowed him to move with frightening speed.

When she finally arrived at the corridor, which, just a minute ago, must have been the epicentre of palace life, it was empty, with only cleaning robots shooting out of the walls from to clean up the vomit. Fortunately, the furious roars of the Doctor shouting orders carried far away. Without thinking, she ran towards them.

Just outside the infirmary, Dottore towered over the assembled parade of people, his face contorted with such anger as if he had been stung by a whole swarm of wasps. There, on a stretcher, Pantalone looked even worse. His body was shaking, his terribly pale skin a sinister sign that he already had one foot in the grave.

Once in the infirmary, Pantalone was immediately transferred to a bed. A second later, a throng of doctors, nurses, and curious onlookers appeared around his body but all were quickly chased away by a few growls from Dottore. The patients too were whispering among themselves, casting surreptitious glances at Pantalone. Bianka sighed – the whole palace would know about the Harbinger’s illness in no time.

While the nurse drew Regrator’s blood, he was given an IV and oxygen and was connected to the electrocardiograph. The irregular line on the screen didn’t bode well.

“What happened to him?” Bianka choked out to Dottore, who was injecting Pantalone with some fluid. “I’ve never seen anything like this in my life!”

“I don’t know, Bianka, I really don’t know,” Dottore replied in between shouting orders to the doctors.

Her heart froze. “What do you mean you don’t know!? Are you also encountering these symptoms for the first time?”

“I am a scientist, not a god! I have not yet discovered everything this world has to offer!”

Bianka cringed. Her first instinct on finding Lord Pantalone was to call the Doctor. But what made her think that he would surely know what was wrong? Watching his clenched lips and rapid movements, she realised he was as helpless as she was. Her gaze shifted to the sick man. No, Pantalone could not die! She had to do something… but what?

Having pushed her way between the medics, Bianka stood before his bed. Regrator looked very ill. She understood from the reaction of those gathered that no one knew what to do or what medicine to give to improve his condition. If they didn’t come up with something immediately, Pantalone would die. His breathing had become irregular, and when one of the doctors lifted his eyelids, all she could see were the blue-tinged whites of his eyes. And then, there was the bluish skin…

A single thought appeared in her mind. Blue skin and sclerae. These were very distinctive symptoms. Now that she mused about it… Had she seen something similar before? She began frantically shuffling through her thoughts. Blue, blue… Was it before she got her diploma? Or was it after she had already become an assistant to the Second Harbinger? She had never seen a blue man, of that she was sure. But an animal…

And then, an image - a missing vial.

“Dottore, try to stabilise him; I have to get back to the lab,” she said.

“Wait, what did you come up wi—"

She ran to the lift. That way she would be in the lab in no time. Once on the correct floor, she darted down the corridor towards her workroom, nearly trampling poor Ayaz on the way. The segments, aware of what was going on upstairs, tried to find out more from her, but she paid them no mind.

Having reached her destination, she rushed to the cupboards and shelves where she stored the finished toxins. At the sight of her, Kurage exited his wheel and watched her with curiosity. Bianka started lining up more vials on the countertop. Kurage, taking advantage of her proximity, jumped into her coat pocket.

“Come on, where was it!” she growled. Finally, her gaze fell on a bottle of milky white liquid. Grabbing it, she rushed back to the lift.

Back in the infirmary, she approached the bed. Thank the gods, it looked like Lord Pantalone was still alive. Dottore, looking not unlike a madman on the verge of a nervous breakdown, noticed her arrival. He was already opening his mouth to barrage her with questions when she pushed a bottle into his hands.

“Inject him with this,” she ordered.

“What is it?”

“There’s no time for that now! Pantalone has been poisoned, and this is the antidote. Now stop fussing and do as I say!”

The Doctor gritted his teeth but obediently took a clean syringe from his pocket. Having drawn the liquid, he inserted the needle into Pantalone’s arm.

The next seconds were torturous. The whole room held its breath, waiting for a sign that Pantalone would survive another day. Finally, after a frightening minute and twenty-seven seconds, the banker took a deep, invigorating breath. For a moment more, no one dared to move, as if in fear that the slightest change in the infirmary airflow would sweep the patient away from Teyvat’s surface. But fortunately, Pantalone was breathing calmly, and his still pale face smoothed out a tad.

When the doctors confirmed that Pantalone’s life was not in immediate danger, Dottore pulled Bianka aside. “I think you have some things to explain to me.”

Despite the disturbing words, there was no accusation in his voice. Bianka bit her lip, then sighed. “Have you looked at his mucous membranes?”

Dottore tilted his head, then turned back to Pantalone. While he opened Regrator’s mouth and lifted his eyelids, Bianka watched his reaction. A flinch. This didn’t surprise her – even without looking, she knew that the banker’s tongue, gums, and whites of his eyes were a dark blue.

Dottore returned to the corner where he had left her. “It’s hard for me to admit, but this is the first time I’ve seen such a symptom. You, on the other hand, know what’s wrong with him. You said he was poisoned.”

Bianka nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. “High in the Natlan mountains, near the volcano, grows an inconspicuous plant. Its name is ‘Tangata pokanoa,’ which means ‘an intruder’ in the tribes’ language. The flowers of this plant are highly poisonous and the toxin itself has a surprising mode of action. It does not kill immediately. Once ingested, it is absorbed into the bloodstream but almost as quickly enters the bones and fatty tissue and binds there, doing no harm. But there is a catch. Under favourable conditions, such as infection, injury, exhaustion, or rapid weight loss, the poison is released and returns to the bloodstream, causing enormous damage to multiple organs in just an hour, maybe two.”

Dottore listened to her words with keen interest. He hummed thoughtfully. “Then, if I understand correctly, Pantalone has been administered poison for some time now. What happened today must have been a toxic crisis.”

“Exactly. All it took was for Pantalone to catch a cold or lose sleep for a few nights. The poison must have broken free and almost killed him. When I found him, he was walking to the lab, probably looking for help.”

A silence fell, letting them digest what had happened. Finally, Dottore let out a heavy sigh. “And this is what happens when this scrooge doesn’t listen to me. I told him not to overwork himself and to come for additional tests; surely I would be able to detect the toxin in his bloodstream.” He growled, glancing at his comrade. “For the Seven Archons, he had already started to feel worse in Siniy Glaz. That was several months ago! That poison must have already reached an extremely high concentration in his body. It was good that you kept your mind clear and ran for the antidote.”

Under normal circumstances, Bianka would have been proud and happy at Dottore’s compliment. But now she flinched and stepped back as if she wanted to appear smaller than she actually was. Something was troubling, even terrifying her.

Unfortunately, the Doctor’s thoughts seemed to follow the same course. He froze and slowly turned towards her. “You ran for the antidote… Why did you have the antidote for this poison, Bianka?”

His voice was quiet, unsettling. Bianka didn’t move, fear squeezing her throat. Finally, she swallowed and raised her gaze. Had her face not been obscured by the mask, Dottore would have espied anguish in her eyes.

“When I create a poison, I always produce an antidote as well, just in case,” she muttered. Dottore opened his mouth but tilted his head instead of saying anything. Bianka took a deep breath. “You’re thinking correctly. That poison came out of my workshop.”

Dottore stepped back, a gasp escaping his mouth.

“I swear I had nothing to do with it!” Bianka didn’t let him get a word in. “I would never in my life poison Lord Pantalone or any other Harbinger!”

“Bianka—"

“I couldn’t find the test tube with the poison in Siniy Glaz. Maybe I lost it in a moment of inattention.”

“Wait—"

“Now everyone’s going to suspect me! And I didn’t want to, I really didn’t wa—"

“Calm down, Bianka!” he ordered, grabbing her by the shoulders and pushing her against the wall. “People are starting to stare at us. We shouldn’t draw more attention to ourselves.”

Bianka looked around. Indeed, the doctors’ and nurses’ heads were turning curiously towards them. She took a deep breath. Clarity of thought was advisable in the present circumstances.

“That’s better,” Dottore said. “I know you’re stressed, but we can’t afford to panic. The situation is serious."

Bianka opened her mouth, another series of assurances that she had done nothing wrong ready to spill outside, but Dottore covered it with his hand.

“I believe you,” he assured her. “You couldn’t have poisoned Pantalone.”

She bulged her eyes. “Really?”

“Of course.” He snorted. “You, poisoning Lord Pantalone? Please, you adore him too much. Besides, you wouldn’t have any time to do it; you’re either in the lab or in your room all day.”

An unimaginable relief made Bianka slide down the wall. If Dottore hadn’t supported her, the scene from the corridor would have repeated itself.

“Hey, don’t be so overjoyed!” he rebuked. “In my eyes, you are innocent, but that doesn’t mean no one will suspect you. Just knowing that there is a traitor in our ranks is highly alarming. Who are they working for, why did they do it, and what is their ultimate goal? We need to find out answers and, above all, catch the traitor before they slip away or do more damage.”

Bianka nodded solemnly. Dottore was right, they weren’t safe yet.

Suddenly, a grunt sounded right next to them. They both turned their heads towards the unfamiliar man. His uniform was out of the ordinary – the white and blue fabric, as well as gold thread patterns, showed that he belonged to the Queen’s personal service.

“Lord Dottore,” there wasn’t even a hint of fear or uncertainty in his voice, “Her Majesty summons you to her rooms. She would like to talk to you about today’s events and Lord Pantalone’s current condition.”

‘Sheesh! These rumours spread really fast,’ Bianka thought.

Dottore didn’t seem surprised by this turn of events. Having assured him that he would carry out the order without delay, he sent the messenger away.

“I would like you to stay here and guard the banker until I return,” Dottore then said, turning to her. “Today’s situation has shown that we cannot put too much trust in anyone; I would like to have someone here whose loyalty I can be sure of.”

Bianka puffed out her chest, exulting in the Doctor’s faith.

The man cleared his throat. “And another thing: in case anyone asked, you knew nothing about any poison. I was the one who recognised Pantalone’s symptoms and sent you back to the lab for the antidote. You were merely following orders.”

Bianka shot him a grateful smile. With this version of events, the probability that someone would suspect her of poisoning the Harbinger was much lower.

“As you wish, my lord,” she said with feigned reverence. Lord Dottore gave her a nudge in the side, then left the infirmary.

Bianka approached Pantalone’s bed. The horde of people, which had occupied this area just a few minutes ago, had dispersed, giving her easy access to the Harbinger. Kurage also poked his head out of the pocket and sniffed, his nose twitching. Pantalone was breathing calmly; the electrocardiograph showed his partially evened-out heart rhythm. However, he was far from fully recovered. He would have to take many more doses of the antidote before the poison releases his body from its murderous clutches. She would need to get on with producing a new batch of antitoxin as soon as she returned to the lab. It was the least she could do for him.

A short time later, two nurses arrived and steered the bed away from the hustle and bustle of the infirmary (and prying eyes) to a secluded room where Pantalone could rest in peace. Bianka sat on a chair right next to his head, watching over his well-being. Not a long time later, however, she saw some people hovering by the door. Their passing shadows and quiet whispers were hard to miss.

Bianka furrowed her brows – those cautious movements and stealthy glances made her nervous.

“Hey, you who are lurking by the door there!” she called out. The shadows froze like rascals caught in the act. “What are you looking for here? Show yourselves instead of hiding like common thugs!”

The strangers didn’t move, their feverish whispers breaking the silence again. Bianka was about to get up to catch the suspects before they fled, but then, the men stepped inside. Their lowered with remorse heads – one blonde and the other brown – were unmistakable.

“Forgive us, my lady,” the blond man, Eymen’s flatmate, spoke. “We didn’t mean to do anything bad.”

“I didn’t say I was accusing you of anything; you were the one who started defending yourselves.” Bianka crossed her arms over her chest, making a threatening face. “This behaviour is characteristic for people who have something on their conscience…”

“No, it’s not like that!” the other man assured. “We just wanted to check if Lord Pantalone is okay. He is our Harbinger; it’s normal that we are concerned.”

Bianka analysed the men’s clothing. Indeed, the left lapels of their coats bore Regrator’s division symbol. They weren’t lying in this regard, but could she fully trust them? She shifted her gaze to their faces. Contrite expressions as if there was something nagging them. However… Bianka didn’t want to appear prejudiced or insult them, but they didn’t look to be… intelligent enough to carry out a carefully planned, sophisticated assassination attempt on Lord Pantalone, known for his caution and suspicion.

She smiled. “I believe we have not yet introduced ourselves to each other.” She stood up. “I am Bianka Snezhevna, Lord Dottore’s right hand. And what do they call you?”

The men looked at each other as if deciding who should make the first move.

“Damian” the blond man said.

“I’m Gregori,” the brunette added.

“Nice to meet you, Damian and Gregori.” Bianka sent them an encouraging smile. “You don’t have to worry about Lord Pantalone; his condition is stable. I believe that when he wakes up and recovers, he will be pleased with your quick action. We could save him thanks to you as well.”

Bianka knew her words were appropriate when they both stood up straight and proudly puffed out their chests.

“Lady Bianka, we’re asking for your permission to stay and accompany you in watching over Lord Pantalone.” Damian’s voice was serious. “It is our duty.”

Bianka tilted her head, analysing the men’s request. Finally, she sat back in her chair and nodded. “You can stay, but I have one condition: I don’t know you well enough to fully trust you, so I’m not letting you near Lord Pantalone. And if any of you make a move that I do not like…” she placed her hand on the dagger she wore at her belt, “…I will not hesitate to act.”

The men shuddered but lowered their heads without objections. Damian chose a seat for himself near the door while Gregori sat under the window.

An awkward silence fell on the room, broken only by their breathing. Kurage left his hiding place and leapt onto the Harbinger’s body, lying there like a featherweight mastiff. Bianka removed her mask and tousled her hair – there was no point in wearing it; they might have to spend a few hours here. Following in her footsteps, Damian and Gregori also shed their facial accessories, albeit with more hesitation.

Nervousness was emanating from them like the scent of carrion. They obsessively avoided making eye contact with Bianka, and their hands fidgeted as if they didn’t know what to do with them. When she heard a heavy sigh for the third time, she decided to act.

“Something’s on your mind. Come on, get it out of your system; you’ll feel lighter.”

They both shuddered, her voice louder than she would have liked in the ensuing silence. Damian glanced at Gregori, who was already giving him an intense look. Once again, they had to make the hard decision as to which of them should speak. The corners of Bianka’s lips lifted of their own accord. They looked just like the segments plunged in telepathic conversations.

Gregori cleared his throat, taking up this responsible task. “We… wanted to apologise. For making fun of you, my lady. Then, in the arena.”

Bianka lost her tongue. She hadn’t expected the capacity for self-criticism from them.

“It was unfair of us,” Damian joined in. “We thought you, my lady, a poor soldier. But then, at the banquet, when you defeated Boyka… It was…”

“…mighty,” Gregori finished.

Bianka gazed first at Damian, then at Gregori, saying nothing. The men stared at her, mesmerised, waiting for the verdict. Finally, she slowly pushed back her coat and took both knives out of their sheaths. Both men’s eyes, now full of anxiety, focused on them.

“I don’t know if I can just forgive you for your transgressions,” she muttered. “Insulting the Harbinger’s deputy is almost the same as insulting the Harbinger themselves…”

Without even looking, Bianka could feel the terror beating from the poor soldiers. She refrained from curving her lips into a mean smile, moving her finger along the blade’s hilt instead.

“How would Lord Dottore punish you…?” she mused. “Perhaps he would have made you his new test subjects? Or used you as training dummies in the arena. Or maybe…” She drew in the air loudly as if the perfect idea had fallen into her mind like a shooting star. The men observed her, completely petrified, “…he would cut your heads off?”

Quick as a snake, Bianka raised her knives, grabbed them by the blades, and threw them in their direction. They flew right past the men’s ears, and Damian and Gregori screamed at full volume, falling to the ground. Bianka glanced at Lord Pantalone; luckily, he didn’t seem too concerned about the screams.

Seconds later, their pleading voices carried across the room.

“Spare us, my lady, we beg!”

“We will change! We’ll never mock anyone again in our lives, just don’t kill us!”

Deciding that they received their punishment, Bianka burst out laughing. The men raised their heads, casting her uncertain glances.

“Calm down, I was only joking,” she giggled. “I accept your apologies. In fact, I wasn’t really offended by the teasing but rather amused. And your faces when Lord Dottore appeared were absolutely priceless. I’m afraid I’ll remember them for a long time.”

Not sure how to act, Damian and Gregori were still kneeling on the floor. However, when Bianka smiled at them in a friendly manner, they themselves burst into nervous laughter, acknowledging her “joke.”

From that moment on, the atmosphere visibly relaxed. All three plunged into conversation, occasionally glancing at the door or the banker, making sure he was safe. From what Damian and Gregori told her, they had been members of the Fatui since they reached adulthood. The thread of understanding that united them had already been established in the first days of their acquaintance when they were cadets in the same troop. Since then, they’ve become inseparable.

It wasn’t long before Dottore returned with Mudry close behind. At the sight of the foreign soldiers, the corners of his mouth dropped in an instant.

“What are they doing here, Bianka?” he growled. Gregori jumped to Damian’s side as if hoping that together, they would find it easier to face the mad Doctor. “Where is your mask? And why are your knives lying on the ground?”

Bianka quickly explained the situation, assuring that Damian and Gregori were not a threat. Dottore didn’t look satisfied, but after much convincing, he relented. After a quick check on Pantalone’s condition, he ordered a return to the laboratory, leaving Mudry as the caretaker. On his way out, however, he drove the two soldiers away, not allowing them to stay with the banker.

“I will be sending you or one of the segments here in the coming days,” he mumbled. “We need to make sure that Pantalone is safe through his convalescence.”

Back in the lab, they were attacked by a cluster of news-hungry segments. Through their ear-splitting shouting, it was impossible to distinguish individual words. Only when Dottore told them to “shut their mouths already” did the relative silence return.

“Didn’t you connect with them during the rescue operation?” Bianka whispered.

“I needed focus, and they would have just been in the way,” he replied, his voice equally low, before turning to the segments. “Pantalone is in a serious but stable condition. He has been poisoned, but thanks to Bianka’s quick thinking and resourcefulness, we were able to stop the toxin from wreaking more havoc. Our task over the next few days will be to watch over Pantalone’s health and to find and punish the traitor.”

Once Dottore’s revelations had been analysed and emotions had partially subsided, the segments began to congratulate them on a job well done, praising Bianka for her contribution. She smiled, positively surprised. Although most of the palace would never know the truth, down here, her deed would be remembered for a long time. She hugged the laughing Fripon, reciprocated Richard’s nudge, and smiled at the shy Er—

A loud, slow applause destroyed the atmosphere like thunder drives peace away. Everyone turned to the fifth segment.

“Bravo, Bianka, you are a true paragon of all virtues!” Ayaz’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “However, I feel a little offended. I have yet to hear even a word of apology from you for nearly knocking me down during your mad run!”

Bianka scowled, her anger rising. Why did Ayaz have to interrupt this joyful scene so abruptly? She wasn’t going to argue, however, and completely spoil the atmosphere. She had at least some dignity!

“I’m sorry, Ayaz, I swear it was unintentio—"

Then, she fell silent, taking another look at the segment. Something was wrong with him. He was dressed differently – instead of an ash-coloured jacket, he wore a long white coat with a striped waistcoat underneath. In addition, his neck was adorned with a comical but charming pink bow tie. His behaviour also differed from the norm. He stood upright, exuding confidence, his hands in coat pockets. There was a defiant smile on his face, and in his eyes lurked something frenetic, cheeky… and dangerous.

“You’re not Ayaz,” she surmised, approaching cautiously while the corners of her mouth lifted higher and higher. She tilted her head slightly. “Three?”

The segment erupted in frenzied, maniacal laughter. Yes, she was sure now; Ayaz would never bring such a sound out of his throat in his life.

“Bravo, good deduction,” he giggled.

“But how is that possible? What happened to Ayaz?”

“You dislike my presence so much?” Three put his hand to his chest. “Be careful, Bianka, or you will offend me again. To answer your question, it was time for a swap – from now on, Ayaz will take care of the experiments at Haeresys, while I’ll try to get you on the straight and narrow here at the palace.”

Bianka mused. When did the swap happen? Yesterday? Today? Was the segment she’d seen in the enhancement room a familiar, fussy Ayaz, or was it a crazy Three? And why had Ayaz left without saying goodbye? At the very thought she might have been just an insignificant part of his life, her heart stung. Had they not become even a tad closer over these long mo—?

Three shouted straight into her face. Bianka jumped up with a wild scream, violently torn from her own thoughts.

“What was that supposed to be?!” she roared, shaking with fear. The only answer was another maniacal laugh from Three. She looked around. The other segments and Dottore positioned themselves around them, carefully observing their exchange.

Bianka understood – this was a test. Just like the segments on her first day in the palace, Three was testing, probing, nudging her boundaries to find out how much leniency she was inclined to give him. She had to do something, or he would crush her like a cockroach.

While Three was still giggling, Bianka scooted closer and, parroting his earlier behaviour, let out a mean laugh into his face. Three went rigid, staring at her in amazement. Clearly, no one had ever insulted him in a similar manner.

“Do you enjoy acting like a hyena? Or maybe you get excited by the sound of your own voice?” She grinned. “I wouldn’t want to diminish your inflated ego, but you don’t have anything to brag about.”

Three still couldn’t find his tongue. He glanced nervously to the side. His “brothers” started giggling under their breath. One to zero for Bianka.

Three scoffed and turned to her, his eyes narrowed. “I’m warning you. It’s easy to upset me, and I assure you that you wouldn’t want to be the victim of my wrath.”

Bianka pretended to ponder his words. “Yeah, you’re right. If your laughter is already so annoying, my eardrums would surely burst from the angry shrieks.”

This time Richard cackled without restraint. “Indeed, his screams can drive you crazy,” he whispered to Erva, who was snorting with laughter.

“Enough of that!” Three roared, no trace left of his smile. He grabbed her by the blouse and lifted. Bianka reflexively grasped his forearms. His eyes blazed with bloodlust. “You’ll regret making fun of me! I’ll turn you into a mindless robo—"

“Sorry to interrupt your tirade, Three…” she interjected, “…but I don’t think you should touch me.”

“Oh yeah? And why’s that?”

“Because I’m contaminated.”

Three furrowed his brows. “Contaminated? By what?”

Bianka’s mouth twisted into a broad smile. “Mice.”

Suddenly, Kurage ran out of her sleeve. Before anyone had the time to react, he made its way along Three’s shoulder, reached his neck and disappeared behind his collar.

The segment’s screams had the potential to shatter glass. He began to jump and hit his body in a sorry attempt to rid himself of the intruder. Kurage, however, wasn’t giving up. Running over Three’s skin and nibbling on sensitive areas, he provoked an even more violent reaction.

No one tried to stop the deafening howls of laughter. “Dancing” Three proved to be the best entertainment of the week, which is why no one was in a hurry to get him out of trouble.

“Get off me! Get away, you pest!” he cried, his crazy with terror eyes resting on Bianka. “Call off that monster!”

Bianka hummed. “Oh, I don’t know… Won’t my help aggravate you even more? I wouldn’t want to end up as a ‘mindless robot.’”

“Help me! I swear I’ll keep all screwdrivers and metal plates away from you!”

“Does that mean I’ve won?”

Three hesitated. Then, Kurage bit his armpit, helping him make a quick decision.

“Yes, you’ve won!” he surrendered. “Now come here and help me!”

Saving Three didn’t require much effort. As soon as Bianka placed her hand on his shoulder, Kurage pattered from underneath his shirt, ran up her arm and settled into the bend of her neck. Three breathed a clear sigh of relief, running a hand through his dishevelled hair. While he mumbled under his breath, Bianka glanced at Dottore out of the corner of her eye. Her mentor nodded gently, bestowing her with a smile. She passed the test.

“Well, now that we’ve made our acquaintance, it’s time to get back to work,” Three muttered. “Now I just have to wait for you to find a good name for me.”

“I’m not going to find a name for you,” Bianka deadpanned. The segments’ eyes bulged. Would Three be stripped of this beautiful honour because of his behaviour? But then, the woman smiled. “I’ve already found it.”

Curious whispers filled the hall. Never before had Bianka given the segment a name on the very first day of their acquaintance. Richard, who had waited the longest for his own ceremony, threw Three a jealous look.

“But before I give you a name, I have to go and get something,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

Bianka turned around and left the laboratory. No one dared move even a metre, eagerly awaiting her return. Finally, her footsteps echoed on the metal steps. She was holding a book of some kind, the cover showing a blue planet, crossed by strips of land forming seven continents.

“This is my favourite book,” Bianka explained. “I have read it many times. There is a lot of evil and suffering in it, but the characters have the strength, determination and hope to fight for a better tomorrow.” She lifted her gaze. “Three, Ayaz mentioned to me that you are a real inventor and have many amazing ideas. In that case, I would like to name you after a character who was an equally great engineer and managed to change the lives of people all over the world with his inventions. If you agree, from now on we will call you Tesla. What do you say to that?”

Three burst into more laughter; this time, however, without maniacal notes.

“Is this ‘great engineer’ really worth me?” he asked. “Is his mind unique, wondrous, utterly peerless?”

“Yes...?”

Her voice was uncertain, though Three didn’t seem to mind it.

“In that case, I’ll take that name!” he decided. “This stroke of fate is further confirmation that my machines will someday conquer the world!”

While Tesla wallowed in self-praise, the others chanted his new name. Six segments had discarded their colourless numbers given at the moment of creation. Only two remained, including the yet-to-be-born Five.

While the segments celebrated, Dottore approached Bianka. “You handled him well. Three, or Tesla, has the most unpredictable and explosive character of all. You’ll have to be on your guard when near him. Even if you have won today, he will look for the slightest crack in your confidence and resolve. And once you let him cross the boundaries, it will be hard to smarten him up.”

Bianka sent him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about me. If I could do it today, why not tomorrow too?”

Dottore snorted. “Let’s hope so.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a loud whistle.

“Hey, dear but infuriating assistant,” Tesla called. A confident smile returned to his face. “I forgot one thing. Ayaz sends you his regards and apologises for not taking the time to say goodbye to you.”

The smile that lit up Bianka’s face could prompt flowers to bloom.

“That’s okay, I’m sure we’ll see each other again sometime.” She raised one eyebrow. “For now, I’m curious to see what your ‘utterly peerless’ presence will bring us.”

Chapter Text

The lab’s atmosphere changed upon Tesla’s arrival.

The segment exuded an unusual aura, pulling the attention of others. His dominant nature made him something of a leader who answered only to Dottore. He was an authority figure too, especially for Fripon, who observed his confidence and listened to his wild bursts of laughter with shining eyes.

Bianka wouldn’t have viewed Tesla’s temperament as a bad thing if it were not for his… explosiveness. Unlike the patient and conciliatory Ayaz, Tesla could become irritated by a conversation or other activity after only a dozen or so seconds. Only working on the machines – his main occupation in the laboratory – absorbed him completely.

Dottore wasn’t wrong when he said that Bianka would have to be on her guard. Tesla was always looking for an opportunity to discredit her. Did he feel resentment for the humiliation he had experienced at their first meeting? Or was it an innate desire to show that he was better than others? It didn’t really matter. What did matter was that she only felt safe in her workroom. Outside it, showing even a shadow of weakness was fatal, with Tesla immediately taking the opportunity to undermine her reputation and position in the internal hierarchy of the lab. Fortunately, Bianka had already made a good name for herself, and the others paid little attention to his antics, with Richard and Mudry even glaring at him in reprimand, but it was still exhausting.

However, despite this silent war, Bianka couldn’t help but admire Tesla’s ingenuity. At any given moment, hundreds of ideas and concepts for new machines and devices were swirling in his head. In this regard, he surpassed even his “brother,” Ayaz. During their work together, she heard stories of how he had transformed his own assistant into an android, exterminated a ferocious dragon sowing fear in the hearts of the Mondstadtians, built a fully automated Ruin Machines factory, and actively participated in the creation of the first Delusion prototypes. Were it not for his innate lack of patience, his creations would surely have conquered half the world by now.

So, although working with Tesla wasn’t a piece of cake, Bianka still tried to serve well this embodiment of Dottore’s engineering mind.

As for Dottore himself… Although he wouldn’t admit it and would be caught dead before saying he and Pantalone were friends, Pantalone’s illness had taken a heavy toll on him. With each day Regrator remained unconscious, the Doctor’s anxiety increased, affecting the general atmosphere. It also didn’t help that, wanting to take advantage of his distracted mind, Bianka had rescued another prisoner, this time without Erva's help. Pantalone’s malaise, combined with the belief that a dangerous disease was wreaking havoc among his test subjects, was driving Dottore to the brink of madness.

When the segments themselves began to worry about the state of his psyche, Bianka realised that she had to break this string of unfortunate events and black thoughts.

“Good morning, Dottore," she said in greeting.

Dottore, who was standing at the workbench and looking absent-mindedly at the machine parts, merely sniffed.

She tilted her head. “What are you up to? Are you going to build some new, deadly robot?”

The Doctor mumbled a reply. Out of the corner of her eye, Bianka saw the others cast them curious glances. She furrowed her brows.

“Perhaps I could help you? Just don’t make me go for the peaches again,” she joked. “I wouldn’t want to be abducted for another few hours.”

“Fine, Bianka, if you want,” Dottore said, continuing to stare dully at the table.

Bianka waited for instructions, maybe an order. When nothing came, she sighed heavily, anxiety building in her stomach. “Hey, Dottore, could I eat all the sweets from your stash behind Five’s capsule?”

She discovered it when she helped Mudry clean his office. Each segment had its own secret stash of sweets hidden somewhere in the guts of the complex, and she managed to find the “larder” of the lab lord himself.

Contrary to expectations, Dottore neither turned to her with a wild expression on his face nor rushed to the stash to find a new place for his sweets. Instead, he shrugged.

“Of course, Bianka.”

Then, Bianka realised that Dottore wasn’t just in a gloomy mood.

He was losing contact with reality.

She had to think of something, distract him somehow. She racked her brains, analysing various ideas. All sounds of work fell silent, as if the segments didn’t want to disturb her musings with a sudden sound.

After a minute, Bianka let out a quiet cry. She put her hands on Dottore’s cheeks and turned his head in her direction. Finally, Dottore seemed to wake up from his trance. He shuddered, focusing his gaze on her for the first time.

“Come for a walk with me,” she suggested. “It’s beautiful weather today; we’ll breathe some fresh air and look at the sculptures in the garden.” Leaving the dark, sombre laboratory and taking a trip outside seemed like a good idea, especially since she hadn’t seen Dottore outside the palace since their arrival many months ago. Freezing, Snezhnayan air always cleared her mind and put her in a good mood. So why not give it a try?

Dottore narrowed his eyes. Then, after a brief consideration, shook his head. “I don’t see the need. There’s a lot of work to do and no time to wander aimlessly in the snow.”

“But Dottore, when was the last time you walked in the snow at all? A little exercise would do you—"

“No, Bianka!” he snarled, coughing a few times. “If you have enough free time to go for a walk, I won’t stop you, but you won’t drag me into it.”

Bianka huffed angrily while Dottore turned back to the table, Erva, Richard, and Mudry looking at her in sympathy. There had to be some way to get Dottore to cooperate. What could she say or do? Bribe him somehow? Use blackmail? Or maybe she should…

She smiled slyly, returning to the Doctor’s side. “I think you should come with me after all. Otherwise, you might regret your stubbornness later.”

Dottore shot her a disapproving glance and wordlessly returned to tightening the cogs.

Undeterred by this show of gruffness, she continued, “I’m going to carry out an experiment in the garden.”

This time, the Doctor stopped. He slowly put down the wrench and looked at her with cautious curiosity. “An experiment, you say?” he drawled.

Bianka held back a triumphant smile. At a rather young age, she discovered that every thinking creature had a certain “magic word” to which it reacted with sudden interest. For dogs, that was “walk,” for most people: “chocolate…” and for Dottore, it was “experiment” (although she had a strong feeling that “chocolate” would have worked just as effectively).

“Indeed,” she continued. “I’m going to test one of my specifics on the Cryo Crystalflies that can often be found in the sculpture garden. If my hypothesis proves to be correct, their cores should double in power. In that case, using the enhanced cores would yield twice as much energy as using the ordinary ones.”

Her words were a bluff – she didn’t have such a great potion, but Dottore didn’t need to know that.

He stared at her, hardly blinking.

‘Go on, agree,’ she thought.

However, to her astonishment, Dottore shook his head. “I think you’re capable of handling this on your own. I’ll stay here, but I’d be happy to hear about the results of your experiment once you have them.”

Dottore returned his attention to the slowly emerging machine, leaving a stunned Bianka to herself. She was so sure he would agree! After he said nothing else, she began to walk away, head lowered in shame. What was she to do now? Go to the gardens alone or return to her own workroom?

“Don’t worry about this minor setback, Bianka,” Mudry comforted her as she walked past. “You know how stubborn he can be. He’s not fully himself now; otherwise, I’m sure he would have thought more deeply about your proposal. Your opinion is important to him, after all.”

He winked knowingly and walked away to attend to another task (or procrastinate, as he had been doing all too often lately), but Bianka paused, pondering his words. She glanced at Dottore, who was once again lost in his own thoughts, while the cables and gears lay on the table.

Then, a silent growl began to rise in her chest. The Doctor was stubborn? No problem, she could be a tough fighter too. Stomping loudly, she returned to the table and forcibly snatched the screwdriver from the Harbinger’s hand.

Dottore’s eyebrows went up as he shot her a surprised look. “Hey—"

“I’ve had enough of your wallowing,” she growled. “You will go outside and walk with me through the garden alleys.”

Dottore glared at her, his upper lip twitching as if he wanted to bare his teeth at her. “Watch your tone! I’m the Harbinger here, and I will not tolerate insubordination in my laboratory, assistant.”

Despite the remark, Bianka smiled. This was her Doctor – grumpy, menacing, and ferocious. She even didn’t flinch when he straightened up to tower over her.

“What Harbinger? Where?” She pretended to look around the hall. “All I see is a low misery.”

A dangerous glint appeared in the Doctor’s eyes. “Be careful, Bianka,” he murmured, taking slow steps towards her. “One more word, and it’ll get very, very unpleasant.”

“Perfect,” she replied, taking a step back each time he made his own. “You can carry out your threat just as well here as outs—”

Suddenly, Dottore pounced on her. Bianka tried to dodge, but he pushed her against the table and put his hands on both of her sides so that she couldn’t escape. The others watched this battle for dominance as if in a trance, Bianka leaning back while Dottore brought his face closer to her own.

“I’m. Not. Going. Outside,” he pronounced.

Bianka frowned. This time it was she who scooted closer to him. “You’ll go, you will, or I won’t leave you in peace for the rest of the day.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“N—"

“Yes!”

Dottore roared, moving away violently. He began nervously combing his hand through his hair, twisting his face and gritting his teeth.

“I’m saying this for the last time, Bianka!” he yelled. “I’m not going on any walk, and neither are you! No, no, and NO!”

****

Outside, fog and wind fought for empery. Contrary to Bianka’s claims of fine weather, the sky was covered with a uniform, white-grey, dazzling layer of cloud “milk.” The wind was strong enough to stir up clouds of powdery snow but didn’t impede movement. Bianka was perfectly at home in such a climate – the cool wind was refreshing, and the snow creaked merrily under her boots.

Unfortunately, the same could not be said for Lord Dottore, who was now standing in the middle of the path leading to the sculpture garden dressed in his Harbinger cloak, hunching his shoulders to keep warm. His expression left no doubt as to his opinion about the escapade. Bianka felt a little sorry for him. Despite hundreds of years spent in the deserts of the frigid, Snezhnayan tundra, perhaps he secretly longed for the humidity and heat of the Sumerian climate.

“Come on, Dottore!” she called. “If you keep moving, you’ll get warmer.”

The Harbinger tilted his head, casting her a glance from behind his mask, before turning his back to her with an offended grunt. The only things she could see were the top of his blue head and a tangle of raven-black feathers.

Bianka sighed. “Don’t be like that; it’s not that horrendous out here.”

When her encouragements were met with nothing more than a sneeze, she stepped closer and pressed her hand into the gap in his coat, trying to grab his hand. A warning murmur escaped from Dottore’s throat, sharp fangs flashing. Bianka merely smiled in response, stroking his shoulder reassuringly.

“Let’s proceed,” she purred softly. “We’ll look for the Cryo Crystalflies. Who knows, maybe we’ll get lucky and find a whole swarm of them.”

Dottore said nothing but let himself be dragged towards the gardens. Bianka didn’t leave his side, glancing at him from the corner of her eye every now and then – she didn’t trust him not to run back to the lab at the first opportunity.

“You’ll get sick, and the whining will start,” he groused. “And when that happens, I’m not going to take care of you.”

Bianka shushed him, strengthening her grip. “Chin up; everything will be fine. If I get sick, I promise I won’t complain. Look, we reached the first statues!”

In the mist, the sculpture garden looked like it was pulled from a fairy tale. Captivated, Bianka admired the craftsmanship of each. There were marble statues and busts, wood-carved animals,  bronze, silver, and gold fairy figurines, and even ice effigies of people who had contributed to the development of Snezhnaya that year. The last type of sculpture was special – with the coming of summer, the ice would melt, and new effigies of more famous personalities would be created in their place. The works of impermanent ice emphasised the relentless passage of time and, at the same time, drew attention to the continuing development of the power that was their nation.

Bianka approached one of them and ran her fingers over the young woman’s face, careful not to damage anything. “Isn’t this magnificent? The artist who created it must have spent many hours on their work. Millimetre by millimetre, they moved across the ice to patiently emerge the next elements of an image that at first existed only in their imagination. How many years of learning and practice it must have taken them to finally reach such perfection!”

Dottore didn’t share her enthusiasm. Having thrown the effigy a bored look, he shrugged. “I have never been interested in art; in my opinion, it’s a waste of time. Science is the area that should be given the most attention; knowledge is power, after all.”

Bianka furrowed her eyebrows, her smile fading. “I, for my part, believe that any field of life is noble if it serves the people in some way. You have to admit that if it were not for dancing, books, or music, our lives would be dull and grey.”

“Bianka, I remind you that I didn’t come to participate in philosophical debates. We are here to find the crystalflies so that you can use them in the experiment. I don’t see any here, so let’s move on.”

Dottore walked away, his nose turned up. Bianka sighed and followed him. She didn’t give up, trying to draw his attention to other sculptures – a plaster statue of a fairy tale hero, a relief carved into a tree trunk, a curled-up marble dragon that smiled in its sleep. But unfortunately, the Doctor remained indifferent to all attempts of instilling a sensitivity to beauty.

He grumbled under his breath as they turned into yet another alley hidden among the bushes, kicking clumps of snow in frustration. “Are you sure you’ve ever seen any crystalflies here? Because I don’t see even a sign of them.”

Bianka pressed her lips into a narrow line. “Yes, Dottore, they were definitely here.”

The Harbinger scoffed, shaking his head nervously. An uncomfortable silence fell on them, and the atmosphere started to become more and more electrified. The anger radiating from Dottore was staining everything around him. The sculptures no longer looked as beautiful as before, the layer of clouds was crushing with its weight, and the wind seemed to creep under the collars of their clothes, causing body-jerking shivers.

Bianka tried to put on a good face, sending Dottore a reassuring smile from time to time. However, after another ten minutes of nothing indicating they would be successful in seeing (let alone catching) even a single crystalfly, the Doctor let out an enraged growl.

“It’s all for nothing! All this walking around, looking at useless sculptures, and searching for something that doesn’t exist!”

“Don’t give up, Dottore," Bianka said, becoming increasingly irritated herself. “I’m sure we’ll find something soon.”

“‘Something?’”

“Crystalflies,” she corrected herself. “And even if we don’t, I’m still glad we could go out together. Fresh air is good for one’s health.”

“Good for one’s health?!” he snarled, his voice full of deadly venom. “Do you really think that wandering aimlessly through alleys lost in the snow can be of any benefit?” He stopped and turned his back to her. “This stroll was a mistake; we lost a lot of time that we could have used for real research and experiments. I’m going back to the lab, and I advise you to do the same.”

Without looking back, Dottore followed the path towards the palace. Bianka observed the receding silhouette while her heart tightened into a painful knot. Was fulfilling her one wish truly such a heavy burden for him? Hanging her head, she slowly followed him…

No. No. She’s not about to roll over like a dog. She raised her head and measured Dottore with narrowed eyes. During the entire walk, he hadn’t said a single kind word to her. On the contrary, he constantly complained and whined, walking with a morose expression as if he were serving a punishment imposed by Her Majesty. This was only supposed to be a short walk so that he could clear his thoughts a little!

An angry huff escaped her lips. She didn’t care if this behaviour was due his difficulties in life. She didn’t deliberately make others gloomy when she herself felt like a wrung rag! It was time to stand up to the Doctor, his pride and confirmed thinking!

Without reflecting on what she was doing, Bianka walked over to the nearest sculpture and picked up some of the snow, crushing it into a snowball. Then, she chucked it at the Harbinger.

Bianka didn’t know how it happened. It was meant to hit his back. At most in the neck. Instead, it soared towards the sky, made a slight arc, and then, with a full momentum amplified by wind and gravity, hit the Harbinger in the back of his head.

Dottore stopped dead in his tracks. Unable to make even the slightest movement, Bianka watched with silent horror as he slowly raised his hand, picked up some snow from his head, and stared at it, rubbing the white fluff between his fingers. Then, after excruciating ten seconds, in a movement so slow that “slower” would have meant stopping completely, he began to turn his face.

Each human showed their displeasure with furrowed brows, lowered corners of their mouth, and an unkind look. It was no different with Lord Dottore. Many times, Bianka had seen him frustrated, angry, or annoyed, not so rarely because of her. Now, however, something was wrong. The Doctor was smiling. That didn’t reassure Bianka even one percent. His smile was so wide it almost split his face in two. There was a kind of madness, even mania, lurking in. The white teeth seemed even sharper than usual.

Instead of a roar of rage, a quiet giggle erupted from Dottore’s throat, quickly degenerating into a vehement laughter that brought to mind the unpredictable Tesla rather than the distinguished Second Harbinger.

Was it possible to drive a man to a state of such fury that instead of shouts of anger and tense muscles, quite the opposite was happening to them? Bianka wasn’t sure, but if it was indeed possible, she had living proof before her. The signal titled: “I’m upset about the walk and I’ve had enough” changed suddenly into: “You’re dead.” She had never seen him like this before. With every second of fixed staring, trepidation clenched its claws tighter and tighter. She took a tentative step back…

Dottore dashed towards her, rushing faster than an enraged Rishboland Tiger. Bianka was in mortal danger at this moment, she had not the slightest doubt about it. She should have run away, called for help, tried to save her life. But she did something that surprised even herself. She burst out in an unhinged, equally crazed laugh, muttered: “fuck” and, grinning like an asylum patient, scurried off.

If anyone had seen them now – rushing at break-neck speed and roaring with salvos of macabre laughter – they might have thought that it was the souls of two sinners who had left the infernal netherworld. If there were any other amblers in the gardens, they certainly drove everyone away. Today was an extraordinary day – it was not only Dottore who behaved as he had never before; Bianka, too, was not herself. Maybe they were both going mad, losing the remnants of their wits and turning into two beasts haunting the palace gardens. Maybe the whole scene was just a dream, and they were about to wake up and return to their daily duties.

Bianka didn’t care. Only one thing mattered – it had been a long time since she had felt so fantastically alive.

Dottore was slowly catching up with her; Bianka could hear him panting a few steps behind. She smiled. Still running, she scooped up some snow from the sculpture, turned around, and, without losing momentum, smacked the white fluff on her enemy’s face. She couldn’t do him much harm, for the mask effectively protected his eyes. Nevertheless, the Doctor wobbled, losing speed. Immediately, however, he shook himself off, roared with determination, and resumed his pursuit. Out of the corner of her eye, Bianka saw that he had picked up on her idea and began scooping up more snow, forming a ball. She sped up, the adrenaline bubbling in her veins not losing its intensity.

This play continued for a good hour. When Bianka couldn’t run any longer, she turned a sharp corner and hid behind one of the statues. Seconds later, Lord Dottore caught up with her. Noticing that she had disappeared from sight, he stopped abruptly, looking around. An amused murmur vibrated in his chest.

“Are you hiding?” he chirped. “Don’t be like that, come out and play with me! I was just starting to warm up!”

The snowball he was holding definitely didn’t encourage her to accept the invitation. Bianka giggled under her breath. When Dottore turned his back on her, she sent her own snowball in his direction.

She underestimated her lord’s speed. A fraction of a second after Dottore was hit in the back, he whirled around and threw before she could duck away. Fortunately, he missed; otherwise, he would have probably broken her neck.

Bianka sprang to her feet after the snowball crashed into the statue’s shoulder, showering her with a thin layer of fluff, but the Doctor was right there. Before she could escape, he grabbed her by the cloak and knocked her to the ground, catching her wrists and pinning them above her head.

Bianka felt his hot breath on her face as he chuckled.

“And what now, darling?” he teased, flashing his teeth as she wriggled and spat like a wild animal. “Where did your sharp claws go?”

She smirked, tilting her head mischievously. “What makes you think it’s gone anywhere?”

“Oh?” he mumbled, copying her move. “Could you elaborate on this ma—?”

He grunted full-throated, for Bianka had hit the part most men considered their underbelly. While he tried to preserve the remnants of his dignity, she slipped and broke into a run, leaving the Doctor behind.

Without thinking, she made her way back to the first sculptures. Finally, Bianka stopped, listening. Strangely, nothing broke the all-encompassing silence. No quick footsteps, panting, or laughter. Looking back, she saw nothing but an empty alley disappearing into the fog.

A shiver ran down her spine. Where had Dottore gone? Surely she hadn’t hit him so hard he couldn’t get up from the ground. Could it be that he got lost on the way? Maybe she should go back, see if he’s all ri—

A strong blow on her back gave her no chance of staying on her feet. She slammed hard against the snow-covered ground, the air pushed from her lungs in an instant. She tensed her muscles in preparation for the attack, but it didn’t come. Instead, there was no sign of the Doctor. Having picked herself up, she looked for footprints, but any tracks were drowning in fog or swept away by the wind.

She turned abruptly, hearing a soft, almost inaudible rustle behind her. Too late – all she saw was a flash of blue hair before she wiped out again. This time, a short cackle rang out somewhere above her. By the time she was back on her feet, there was no trace of Dottore.

She growled quietly. If her attention hadn’t been preoccupied, she might have shifted her gaze towards the palace and caught sight of an unassuming silhouette in one of the many windows.

Lady Columbina watched the spectacle unfolding outside and giggled. With her sixth sense, she detected Dottore’s spirit behind one of the sculptures. Even she, a supernatural being, was impressed by his ability to move silently. Despite his strapping figure, Bianka still had trouble spotting him and avoiding blows in time.

Columbina didn’t stop chuckling, even when Bianka was thrown to the ground like a rag doll for the fourth time. Then, someone appeared in the corridor. His cloudy face, thoughtful gaze, and a leader’s aura clearly defined his identity.

The Damselette turned her head towards the newcomer. “Come, Pierro~. See how nicely they are playing.”

Lord Pierro flinched, snapped out of his reverie. Having thrown Columbina a curious glance, he came closer and glanced out of the window.

“See, see!”

At the sight of the already enraged Bianka and the unruly Doctor, he frowned. Not a word left his lips. Instead, he carefully observed the events unfolding before him while Columbina leaned against his side, playing with the military knots of his coat.

Meanwhile, Bianka was devising a tactic. She could flee deeper into the gardens, but that wouldn’t save her from Dottore’s attacks – there were even more hiding places there than at the edge of the park. So, she had to fight back. Only how do you do that when you can’t see or hear your opponent?

Despite her instincts screaming for her not to do so, Bianka closed her eyes and calmed her breathing, listening to the surroundings. The howling wind, moving the branches of the coniferous trees… the rush of blood in her ears… but what was that? A gentle rustling, so quiet it could have been just a figment of her imagination, yet breaking through the sounds of nature like a false note warping a perfect symphony.  Then, the creaking of snow, closer and closer. She tried to dodge but was too slow – the Doctor pushed her, and she fell knee-deep into the snow.

Despite the setback, Bianka smiled. She stood up unhurriedly and listened to the sounds around her. She could hear him clearly now – the rustling of the fabric as he inadvertently rubbed against the sculpture, footsteps as quiet as a cat’s, and even a sigh as he gathered strength for his next attack. Bianka couldn’t help but admire her master. The grace with which he moved despite his sizeable stature, the enveloping silence that protected him from the senses of his enemies, and the vigilance that helped him attack with deadly efficiency. Yes, Lord Dottore was the perfect predator, able to plant fear in the hearts of even the bravest of his victims.

Bianka’s grin grew even wider. Dottore may have been a predator, but she too was far from helpless prey.

Somewhere behind her, ever-closer footsteps sounded again. This time, however, Bianka was prepared. Before the Harbinger could knock her down, she fell to the ground and tripped him.

Tumbling, Dottore let out a surprised growl. Bianka quickly rose from the ground and jumped. While in the air, she unsheathed her knife and thrust it to his throat. When he tried to move, she snatched his arm with the other hand and drove her leg into his already slightly battered crotch with abandon, far deviating from the playfulness of two lovers.

Dottore shrieked in pain, a grimace of rage twisted onto his face. Bianka bared her teeth, knowing full well who had the upper hand.

“Give up, Dottore,” she hissed in an ominously low voice. “I’m holding a knife to your throat; you try to rise, and you will die.”

By tradition, Dottore stubbornly wriggled and thrashed, trying to get out from under the blade. Bianka, however, held him firmly.

“All right, I guess I have no choice,” he said after he finally gave up, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. “One to zero for Bianka.”

Despite her earlier words, Bianka was taken aback. Lord Dottore, the proudest man she had ever met, was admitting defeat?

“Really?” She tilted her head, suspicious. “You’re saying I won just like that?”

“Why not? I’m lying flattened on the ground, and, as you said yourself, I have a knife to my throat. I think it’s clear who’s on top, don’t you?”

She found these words hard to believe. But was she to miss such a rare opportunity when the Doctor was conceding victory to her? A triumphant smile lit up her face. She lowered the knife.

Too late she noticed Dottore’s sly smile. Before she knew it, he pounced, caught her in his arms, and hurled her straight into a nearby snowdrift. His delighted laughter echoed in Bianka’s ears as she was spitting out the white fluff.

“Now it’s even!” he exclaimed.

Hearing the joy in his voice, a giggle bubbled up in her chest too.

“Beware, Dottore!” she called out with feigned menace. “I won’t let you get away with such an insult!”

Having said that, she crawled out of the snowdrift and ran towards the Harbinger. Dottore didn’t hesitate. He turned and dashed towards the palace.

Bianka’s eyes lit up, pure joy surging inside her like a mighty wave. Dottore looked like a child stripped of all the cares of adult life, as he laughed without restraint. If it weren’t for their clothes and Fatui insignia, they could have pretended they were just good friends playing in the snow.

The positive energy filling every cell of her body was so great that it threatened to tear her apart. She howled with all her might to let it out. Dottore answered her with the same. So, they roared together, inevitably approaching the palace.

****

“Well? What do you say to that?”

Columbina turned to face Lord Pierro. The man was still staring at the window, even after Bianka and Dottore had disappeared from sight. The part of his face facing Columbina was covered by his mask; it was impossible to tell what he was thinking.

Finally, Pierro shrugged. “I don’t understand what you mean. Dottore had trained his deputy well, so she won.”

Columbina laughed. “You know very well that’s not what I meant.” When Pierro didn’t comment on her words, she added, “He looked really happy, didn’t he?”

The Jester finally tilted his head, casting her an impenetrable glance. “That’s true. The last time I saw him so exultant was when he created the first working Delusion. But now, the source of positive emotion is a person, not an object. It’s quite… unexpected.”

“That’s because Bianka Snezhevna is a truly unique character.” Columbina smiled. “Skjulti Drage. You called her that yourself, remember? And this drage is truly one of a kind.”

That said, the Damselette walked away with a light step, humming under her breath. Pierro followed her with eyes full of deep thought.

****

A few floors down, Dottore ran through the great gates into the warm interior of the palace. Bianka joined him a few seconds later. Snow stuck to them from head to toe, their hair glued to their faces, and puddles of water quickly grew under their feet. Despite this, their faces were adorned with broad, genuine smiles.

“Well, Bianka,” Dottore began, “I don’t know how you did it, but you really managed to make me feel better.”

“I recommend myself for the future,” she said, tilting back her mask and winking at him.

Dottore snorted, amused. “I take it that this alleged crystalfly potion was merely a ruse to draw me out?” Bianka scratched her head, trying to hide her sudden embarrassment. The Doctor shook his head. “Oh, what a rascal you are. You’ll be the death of me one day.” He sighed. “We should go back to the lab. We’ve had a lot of fun, but there are still a few things to do. We need to make sure that while we were away, Tesla hasn’t started a revolt and taken ownership of the underground.”

Bianka agreed, not entirely sure if the sentence about Tesla was just a joke. She had no trouble imagining him as the leader of the mad scientist’s blue-haired clones’ rebellion.

As they walked down the corridor, however, they heard someone calling them.

“Lord Dottore, please wait!” an unfamiliar man shouted. Having reached the smiling Bianka and the Doctor, who had instantly assumed a stern expression, he began panting to catch his breath. The mark on his coat showed that he was a messenger.

“Come on, soldier, don’t keep us waiting!” the Harbinger rushed him.

The man swallowed, straightened up, and spoke, “I bring good news! Lord Pantalone has woken up and requests a meeting as soon as possible.”

Dottore lost his tongue. He turned to Bianka. Despite his mask, she could sense the joyful surprise emanating from him. Without honouring the messenger with even a glance, he rushed towards the infirmary. Bianka showed more courtesy – she thanked the man on behalf of the Doctor before running after her master.

The infirmary downright vibrated with hopeful excitement. At the door of the room where Pantalone lay, several doctors were whispering. Lively sparks flashed in their eyes, and they peeked through the crack every now and then as if to make sure that the rumours were true. However, one sinister grimace from Dottore was enough for them to scatter to the four corners of the world.

Bianka gave him a wry look. “That wasn’t very polite, you know?”

Dottore smiled cheekily. “And since when is the Second Harbinger known for his sophistication and politeness?”

“Touché!” Bianka snorted.

They entered the room. Without hesitating, Bianka ran up to the banker, who sent them a light smile.

“Lord Pantalone!” she attacked as Dottore closed the door. “Are you all right? Do you feel weakness, pain, fatigue?”

“I’m happy to see you too, Bianka,” Pantalone replied weakly. He was still pale, and his forehead was dewy with sweat, but his eyes were sharp.

Dottore put his hand on Bianka’s shoulder. “Easy, let him breathe; you can see he’s barely alive.” He shifted his gaze to the fellow Harbinger and grinned. “Long time no see, comrade. Do you know how long you were unconscious? Ten days! You gave me quite a scare. I was getting nervous that my money would disappear with your death.”

A quiet chuckle, followed by an agonising cough, escaped Pantalone’s lips. When he regained control of his breathing, he sighed. “Your best friend almost lost his life, and all you can think about is money? Truly, I am offended. I’ll have to deduct it from your salary.”

“Oh no, don’t you dare!” Dottore’s smile disappeared faster than a shooting star while Bianka started laughing at the men’s mutual jokes. “Don’t make me start regretting that you survived after all. But seriously, how are you holding up? Better than you look, I hope.”

“I’ve been better…” Pantalone wheezed. “What actually happened? All I remember is the terrible pain that suddenly seized my whole body, and the growing darkness.”

“You were poisoned. Bianka found you when you were already one foot in the grave.”

Bianka lowered her head shyly as Regrator sent her a kind smile, so rare in his repertoire.

“I see. In that case, I owe you my sincerest thanks. If it weren’t for you two, I probably wouldn’t be here anymore.”

Bianka bowed, as if to say, “At your service.” At that moment, however, Dottore cleared his throat.

“Forgive me, but I must correct you.” He put his hand on Bianka’s back. “It was Bianka and only Bianka who saved your life. She deduced what poison you had been given and ran for the antidote while I stood over you, head in hands, having no idea what was wrong with you. I’m sorry, my friend, but if it had only been me there, you would already be rotting in the deepest circles of Hell.”

Bianka’s bewilderment was so great that it almost knocked her down with its very existence. She looked at the Doctor, a silent question in her eyes. Dottore was also gazing at her. He stood tall, puffing out his chest, with a smile on his face. His whole figure expressed… pride. Pride in her quick thinking and action.

Suddenly, Bianka’s cheeks began to burn, and lava bubbled in her arteries. Something inside her tensed up, threatening to snap any second. She became hyper-aware of the scent of mint and resin surrounding her. Did Dottore always exude such warm—

Pantalone laughed, snapping her out of her disturbing trance. She didn’t know how to thank him for that.

“In that case, I must correct my earlier words.” He focused all his attention on the stunned woman. “Thank you, Bianka, for what you’ve done. I would say that I am eternally grateful to you, but our situation is special.” He became serious. “I once saved your life by helping you escape from the sabrelion. By doing so, you have incurred a great debt to me. I declare that on the day you pulled me from the clutches of death, that debt has been repaid.” He sighed sadly. “What a pity. You were a really valuable asset, and I didn’t even manage to use you to make me a cup of tea.”

Bianka paid no attention to his wailing. Just like that, the debt that had rested on her shoulders for so many months, gone. Who would have thought that anything good would come of Pantalone’s poisoning? Although, the Harbinger would certainly have looked at it differently if he had found out that the poison had been created in her lab. Fortunately, Dottore didn’t look as if he was going to hint at it. Nor would Bianka ever say a word. It was a secret that only they knew.

The Doctor finally tore his gaze away from Bianka and shifted it to Pantalone. “It is good that you have decided to return to the world of the living. Know, however, that you will have to lie here for a few more days. I will be sending segments to watch over your health and safe—"

Dottore sneezed. There would have been nothing strange about it if not for the fact that the first one was followed by two more, the third being so strong that his mask flew off and clattered against the floor.

“What the...?” he began in a strangely altered voice, sniffing.

“Are you all right, Dottore?” Pantalone asked, concerned.

Bianka narrowed her eyes. Even from here, she could feel the warmth radiating from him. Earlier, she had thought it was a side effect of exertion, but what if…? He was showing some symptoms this morning, after all. She took off her glove and, without a word, pressed her hand to the Doctor’s forehead. He flinched, surprised by her touch. Bianka swallowed uncertainly. His skin was inflamed. And wait, was it the chills that shook his body so much?

“Dottore…” she muttered, unsure of how to convey the unfavourable news to him.

The Doctor, however, only shook his head. “I’m fine, it’s just exhaustion. Tomorrow I’ll already be—"

He was interrupted by another salvo of sneezes. Trepidation nestled in Bianka’s heart.

‘Out of the frying pan and into the fire,’ she thought, dreading what tomorrow would bring.

Chapter Text

Dottore was ill. And Bianka began to curse the day she decided to take him outside.

Despite assurances that it was just a cold, Dottore’s condition steadily deteriorated, until he didn’t turn up in the lab two days after his visit to Pantalone. It was unheard of. Strange. The reason why Mudry led a search party with Bianka and Erva in tow.

When they arrived at the door of Dottore’s private chamber, Bianka didn’t even have the chance to enjoy the honour of being in such an exclusive place; her anxiety was too great – gnawing at her insides and climbing up her throat. It only calmed when she saw Dottore inside, miserable, lying under three layers of quilts and blankets, too weak to get out of bed on his own.

Although he argued and pretended not to listen, Mudry managed to convince Dottore to undergo treatment. What he did not want to agree to was convalescence in the infirmary.

“Why should I lie here?” Dottore grumbled. “I might as well rest in the laboratory.”

Bianka narrowed her eyes, and squatted to his level. “Look me in the eye, and swear that while you’re in the lab you won’t try to sneak off to work on experiments despite your illness.”

The Doctor opened his mouth, ready to answer with determination… but no sound came out. He looked somewhere to the side, then slowly closed his lips.

Bianka smiled. “No counter arguments?”

Dottore just growled, giving up.

Supported by the segments, the four of them undertook the arduous trek first down the corridor and then down the stairs to the first floor. Dottore coughed the whole way, his body shaking.

When they finally reached the infirmary, his expression was murderous. It essentially put a force field around them, no one having the courage to approach the eccentric bunch.

It didn’t help either that Dottore was mumbling to himself. Bianka heard something about a “helpless old man” and a “laughing stock” before he was interrupted by another attack of deep, violent cough.

Someone did eventually approach them, but not until the medics rounded up their bravest colleague. The man took a quick interview, assuring them that they would properly care for the Second Harbinger.

“This is good, yeah?” Bianka asked Erva as they left the room. Mudry had stayed behind to keep an eye accompany him.

“I believe so. Being here should help him recover.”

Unfortunately, not even fifteen minutes passed before Mudry called Bianka back upstairs. She heard Dottore before she saw him – angry shrieks, punctuated by equally virulent coughs, were coming from one of the room… Or rather, from a well-known room.

Bianka wasn’t sure why someone thought that putting Dottore and Pantalone in the same room would be a good idea. Though perhaps it wasn’t so strange; after all, the Harbingers’ willingness to work together, even their friendship, was known throughout the palace. However, only their closest associates knew the nature of it in depth. It was best represented by an anecdote about two hamsters – when each had their own territory, nothing bad happened. When placed in the same cage, however, they would immediately go at each other with bared teeth.

Dottore and Pantalone worked best during short, planned meetings. They could also function side by side for extended periods of time if each was given their own space, as was the case in Siniy Glaz. Dottore admitted before that this state of affairs was mainly his fault – he valued his friendship with Regrator but was annoyed by his habits. It didn’t help either that he had an almost reflexive need to tease Dottore during every meeting.

It was in vain to find such freedom in a single sickroom. That’s why Bianka had to stop her lord’s murderous urges before the infirmary became a witness to a crime of national importance. As she entered the room, she nearly collided with a terrified nurse trying to escape into the corridor. Dottore was standing by the vacant bed, panting like a marathon runner with an asthma attack. Mudry was trying to reason with him, but every time any sound came out of his mouth, Dottore would turn around and growl, then cough.

Mudry sent Bianka a pleading look as several medics crowded around the angry Harbinger Pantalone watched with a cool expression, though Bianka could see the uncertainty tick across his face.

She understood the signal. Passing the frozen with fear medics, she approached the Doctor and grabbed his arm. Dottore bared his teeth, ready to attack, but when he saw his assistant’s gentle face, he relaxed.

“You have to get me out of here, Bianka,” he spluttered, heat radiating off his body. “I told them I can’t lie here, but they won’t listen to me!”

“Sit down first, then we’ll talk,” Bianka replied. “You can barely stand on your feet.”

Dottore made a face and turned his head away, but when she squeezed him harder, he let out a long sigh and flopped heavily onto the mattress. “I don’t want to stay here. It’s one thing to be sick, which is unpleasant in itself, and another to lie in the same room with this…” Dottore glanced out of the corner of his eye at Pantalone, who answered him with a smirk. Another growl began to rise in the Doctor’s throat, “…tarantula.”

“Stop talking like that,” she rebuked him. “You and Lord Pantalone are friends. Don’t you remember how concerned you were when he was unconscious?”

“That was before I remembered his annoying voice and cheeky smile.”

Bianka resisted the urge to sigh. Why did Dottore’s incredible mind have to go hand in hand with an equally extraordinary stubbornness? “Alright, I’ll talk to the doctors and see what can be done.”

Dottore’s face broke out into a grateful smile.

“Sir,” Bianka said, approaching a medic who indicated no immediate desire to flee at the slightest sign of aggression on Dottore’s part. “Could we put Lord Dottore in another room? He would be much calmer and more cooperative if he had a space only for himself.”

The physician glanced at a hunched Dottore, then shifted his anguished gaze to Bianka. “I’m sorry, my lady, but I’m afraid that’s not possible. We’ve been fighting a snow flu epidemic for a fortnight now. There are so many patients that every room is occupied. Even if we were to move Lord Dottore to another ward, he would surely have to share space with someone.”

Bianka bit her lip. Dottore won’t be happy about that. And she was right, for when he heard the news, the corners of his mouth dropped almost to his chin.

“I see,” he said slowly, turning back to the medic. “In that case, the matter is clear; I am going back to the laboratory.”

Dottore started to get out of bed, but Bianka quickly grabbed his arm. “No! Can’t you last even a few days? What was his diagnosis?” she said, turning to the medic.

He scratched his head. “We don’t know. Lord Dottore didn’t let us examine him.”

Bianka whipped her head back at the Doctor.  “What do you mean, you weren’t even examined?!”

Dottore looked straight ahead, avoiding eye contact. “Why should I allow myself to be touched and groped by strangers?”

Bianka froze, thinking, hoping! that she had misheard. “Dottore…” she began, her voice not unlike a mother’s who is talking to her unruly child,” …how would you like to get better when you don’t even know what’s wrong with you?”

“I didn’t ask for help!” he shouted, then burst into a coughing fit. “It was you who manipulated me and brought me here by force!” He rose from the bed. “That’s enough. I’m going back down to the lab, and no one will stop me.”

“Sit down, Dottore!”

Bianka’s words and voice carried so much authority that Dottore didn’t even hesitate. Then, he looked down at himself, as if surprised that he had obeyed the command in the first place.

“Bianka—"

“You will let yourself be examined and then rest,” she said. “You are sick and weakened. This is not up for debate.”

“No. No foreign doctor will lay a hand on me!”

“In that case, you will let yourself be examined by Mudry.” She shifted her gaze to the strangely stiffened segment. “Do you have your own stethoscope?”

“Unfortunately not,” he replied, “but I’m sure one of these kind doctors will lend me theirs.”

Bianka’s gaze went to the medics huddled against the wall. Strangely enough, their horrified gazes focused on her instead of Dottore. She couldn’t be that frightening, could she? Her physiognomy definitely didn’t evoke negative emotions. On the other hand, it probably wasn’t every day they saw a proud Second Harbinger bowing his head before a mere researcher. Everyone knew that only a powerful creature could control an equally deadly predator.

The medic she had spoken to earlier handed over his stethoscope. Mudry set about auscultating the angry Dottore. Everyone stood in absolute silence, awaiting the verdict.

When Mudry returned the stethoscope and looked at Bianka, her stomach dropped. His nervous expression couldn’t bode well.

“It looks like bronchitis to me,” he whispered.

Bianka tilted her head. “That’s probably a good thing. I was afraid he had pneumonia.”

Mudry scratched his head.

Bianka narrowed her eyes. “What? Why are you so worried?”

“…You see,” he said after a long pause, letting out a heavy sigh. “After gaining the title of a Harbinger, Dottore was sick only once. At that time, it also seemed to be no big deal… And yet it almost ended disastrously.”

“What do you mean?’”

Mudry forced out a smile. “Ah. Slip of the tongue. Please don’t worry. It’s all in the past.”

Bianka still didn’t look convinced, but didn’t argue. There was too much else to focus on.

Soon after she had managed to persuade Dottore to stay in the room, the medics dispersed, leaving the Harbinger on the bed, staring at the ceiling, his face more murderous than a category five hurricane.

“Are you all right, Lord Pantalone?” Bianka asked as Mudry whispered something to Dottore, making his expression even worse. “I hope our pushing and bickering hasn’t disturbed your peace of mind.”

Pantalone smiled. To Bianka’s relief, his skin already looked much healthier.

“Well, I was rather far from fully relaxed…” he said, amusement lining his voice, “but on the other hand, it’s been a long time since I enjoyed myself so much.”

They both looked at Dottore, who somehow had managed to look even angrier.

“My lord,” Bianka said slowly, “I have a request.”

“Oh?” Pantalone responded.

“Lord Dottore will be your companion for a few days. I’m afraid he may be excessively… agitated during this period. It would be perfect if no external factors caused him even more emotions.”

The banker narrowed his eyes, his smile never faltering. Bianka was well aware that he understood her message. The only question that remained was whether he would be willing to comply.

Pantalone looked away and hummed. “I don’t know, Bianka.” He closed his eyes. “Staying so many days in the same room can be very tiresome. I could use some entertainment.”

He lifted one eyelid and gave her a challenging look. Bianka cursed silently. Lord Pantalone was a cunning man who loved the idea of an equal exchange; of course he would not accede to her request without gaining something in return. Just what could she give him? Would she have to incur another debt after having just paid off the previous one? Fortunately, she didn’t demand much from him, so he couldn’t expect absolute loyalty or sacrifice from her either.

Bianka smiled. “I intend to be a frequent visitor to the infirmary in the near future. Lord Dottore may need some care and a familiar face to pass the time. If that satisfies you, my lord, I can include you in my plans as well.”

Pantalone remained silent, considering her proposal. She was offering him her time and assistance. That should be enough to satisfy his hunger… right?

“So be it,” he relented. “I will try to curb my non-standard hobbies. But you should know,” he said, glancing at the companion next to him, “our dear Doctor is to me like a red rag to a bull. Reflex can prove stronger than will at times.”

Despite his words, Bianka breathed a sigh of relief. Dottore’s illness didn’t shape up to be an easy experience for… anyone, in truth. She needed every ray of hope she could get.

****

Dottore had been lying in the infirmary for only two days, and Bianka already wanted to wring his neck.

He complained. That’s how she’ll remember this time – one big, incessant complaining spree. Every time the Doctor opened his mouth, all that came out was frustrated mumbling and grunting. Moreover, he wanted Bianka to stay with him nonstop, claiming that otherwise Pantalone would not get off his back. Pantalone himself kept his promise and didn’t tease his companion. Bianka, however, saw playful sparks lighting up his eyes from time to time. It was inevitable that there would be a clash between the two Harbingers.

Bianka was making an effort to deliver on her promise too. When she came to listen to Dottore’s complaints and summarize the results of the experiments, while placing a cool compress on his feverish forehead, she also took time for Pantalone, combing his hair, helping apply his makeup, or shooing boredom away with a conversation. At times, she felt the disapproving gaze of Dottore on her, who clearly didn’t like that she was bestowing attention on another man.

‘If only you knew I am doing this for you…’ she thought then.

Dottore’s tantrums weren’t her only problem. In the absence of the lab’s master, some of the segments began to show signs of excessive freedom. Tesla in particular was a thorn in her side. As the segment with the strongest temperament and authority, he acted like Dottore’s successor and conducted the actions of the others. Not all his decisions were bad; sometimes, it was only because of them that the work in the Second Harbinger’s complex moved forward. However, his impatience didn’t help with research that required more finesse and difficult decisions. That’s when Bianka had to step in. Although she was only a deputy, the segments were willing to take her opinions into account, acknowledging her intelligence and sharpness of mind.

At the same time, Dottore’s absence presented unique opportunities – ; opportunities she was afraid to take advantage of as he roamed the corridors of the lab. Her thoughts wandered to the basement, to a part of it she had never been in. She would have been afraid to take such a big risk on her own… but if Erva had once again extended a helping hand to her… She needed to think about it more deeply.

Now, however, her thoughts were preoccupied with a much more trivial thing.

Mudry was reluctant to reveal the reason why Dottore almost lost his life the last time he fell ill, but Bianka had her own suspicions. The Doctor did not want to take the prescribed medication. It seemed unthinkable – a man of science, well aware of the health consequences of going against doctors’ orders.

Bianka was forced to urge him to swallow a small tablet every time she appeared in the room. Surprisingly, Dottore usually nodded and promised improvement; however, without fail, the pastille would still be waiting patiently on the bedside table whenever she got back.

It was the same this time too.

“You promised to take the medicine!” Bianka fumed. Dottore, with his face covered, tilted his head towards the window, not honouring her with even a single word. She gritted her teeth. “Why do you have to be so stubborn? You would have returned to the laboratory much faster if you had been an exemplary patient and listened to the doctors.”

Pantalone snorted. “Dottore an exemplary patient? Oh, please, this is a pipe dream. Dottore wouldn’t come to his senses, even if it hit him right between his eyes.”

The Doctor growled. “Watch your tone, you scrooge. I may not want to ingest this thing, but I wouldn’t let myself be poisoned like a just-recruited rookie.”

“Who would want to poison you? That much artistry isn’t necessary to kill you. It would be enough to draw a circle around you and tell you to come out of it. Your stubbornness and defiance would keep you inside until you died of starvation.”

Dottore roared furiously, throwing off his duvet. Before he could get up, though, Bianka jumped onto the bed and pressed him to the mattress. Completely bewildered, he didn’t even try to defend himself. He whimpered (whimpered!) when she took off his mask, grabbed his jaw, and put a pill into his open mouth. Dottore reflexively swallowed the medicine.

“Good,” she hummed, bringing her face closer to his. “I will do that every time you break a promise.”

Bianka released the Doctor from her clutches and climbed off the bed. While both Harbingers stared in shock, she unhurriedly picked up the damp cloth that had fallen to the floor during the scuffle and placed it back on Dottore’s forehead.

“That’s better,” she purred. “Do you need help with anything else? Should I bring you an extra blanket?”

Dottore blinked, then scowled. “You call shoving a tablet down my throat help?! No, thank you! I’ve had enough of your ‘help’ for one day.”

Bianka stared him down, then turned to Pantalone. “And how about you, my lord? Shall I add fresh water to your cup?”

Pantalone sighed dramatically. “It’s still just water and water,” he wailed. Though Bianka could see a smile lurking underneath the false anguish. “Are you sure I couldn’t taste tea for once? I’ve almost forgotten what freshly brewed Oolong tastes like.”

Bianka tilted her head. “I can talk to the nurses; I’m sure they’ll be willing to accede to your request.” She swept her gaze around the room. “All right, if none of you need my help, I’m going back to the lab.”

“Pardon?” Dottore almost jumped out of bed again. “But you just got here!”

“I just wanted to check that you were fine. And that you took your medicine.” She looked at him askance. “While you are resting here, I have to make sure that things stay calm downstairs. Have you tried connecting with the segments? You probably know how excited they can be when they don’t feel the ‘Master’s’ gaze on them. Unfortunately, I don’t have my own clones and can’t be in two places at once.” Her eyes softened. “Come on, don’t sulk so much. I promise I’ll come by in the evening to see how you’re doing.”

Dottore burbled something under his breath, but didn’t try to stop her again. Bianka left the room before he could change his mind.

A tentative silence fell upon the room, unbroken by the slightest sound. Both men lay on their backs, staring at the ceiling. The Doctor’s face expressed absolute disgust, while Pantalone moved his closed lips as if he wanted to say something.

“Don’t you. Even. Dare,” Dottore threatened through gritted teeth.

Unfortunately, these were words he should not have spoken. Unable to contain himself any longer, Pantalone let out a loud cackle.

“What was that supposed to be?” he choked out between salvos of laughter. “She shoved that tablet like she was dealing with some stubborn dog!”

“Shut your mouth, you magpie, or I’ll really turn into a dog and rip your throat to shreds!”

Pantalone was unconcerned by his roommate’s threats. “Since when do you let yourself be pushed around like that? Where had the ruthless scientist gone? The terror of the Fatui?”

“Hello, anyone?!” Dottore called out into the depths of the corridor. “This gentleman has already recovered! He can go back to his chambers and leave me alone!”

“What’s next? Bianka’s going to kiss you on the forehead when you hurt your finger?”

“I’ve had enough of you wagging your tongue, banker!” Dottore threw back the duvet. “I’ll teach you respect, because you’ve apparently forgotten who you’re—"

A loud crack. A howl full of pain.

“If you want, we can still call her,” Pantalone said as Dottore started at the welt forming on his hand from where he slammed it against the bedside table.

Dottore lifted his gaze, his face twisted in disgust. Pantalone’s smile rarely showed so much self-satisfaction.

“Bianka shouldn’t be far away,” he continued, voice deceptively sweet. “She’d take pity on you… Kiss your forehead…”

Dottore lay down, covered himself with the quilt, and ostentatiously turned his back on his interlocutor. A final amused snort escaped Pantalone’s lips. Realising that the fun was over, he closed his eyes. He had a promise to keep, after all. 

****

Bianka, meanwhile, was heading towards the laboratory. Thanks to Dottore’s absence, she could start forming a plan. Fortunately, it shouldn’t take her as long as the plan to free Kaem.

The main room of the infirmary was relatively quiet. No troops had recently experienced a heavy battle or an unexpected attack from the Abyssal monsters, so the medics were able to take a breather. Only a few soldiers were there for their annual check-up. They stood in a cluster and talked in hushed voices. Undisturbed by anyone, Bianka approached the exit door…

…which opened suddenly with a loud bang.

“LORD PANTALONE!!!”

Before Bianka could recover from surprise, someone bumped into her full force and knocked her to the ground, the impact choking all the air out of her lungs. The unexpected assailant began to wriggle, trying to dislodge their entangled limbs.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” they repeated. “Lord Pantalone! Shit, I can’t get my arm out!”

That’s when Bianka recognised the stranger’s voice.

“Yukii?!” she exclaimed, bulging her eyes. “By the Seven Archons, what happened? You almost crushed me like a bug!”

“Bianka?” Yukii took a better look at the woman flattened on the ground. A happy smile lit up her face. “Bianka, it’s really you! It’s good to see you!” Then, she turned serious. “I heard that Lord Pantalone had been poisoned. I came as quickly as I could!”

“You’re a bit late, though,” Bianka grumbled, rising from the ground. Seeing the horrified expression on Yukii’s face, she added quickly, “That’s not what I meant! Lord Pantalone is alive and well. However, the poisoning took place two weeks ago. What were you doing all this time?”

“Master sent me all the way to the other end of Snezhnaya to look after the bank; I arrived as soon as I could!” she swore. “I’m going now; I have to be with him.”

“Just don’t be surprised if you see not one, but two patients.”

Yukii stopped dead in her tracks. “What do you mean?”

Bianka sent her a tired smile.

“Lord Dottore?” she inquired. Having received confirmation, she drew in the air loudly. “Lord Dottore has been poisoned too?”

“Oh no, none of that,” Bianka assured. “His being here has a more trivial cause. Go now, Lord Pantalone has surely heard your screams; don’t make him get up and start looking for you.”

When her chaotic companion dashed into the corridor, Bianka returned to the laboratory. Tesla was, as usual, enacting his totalitarian rule, shouting orders and gesticulating with a finesse worthy of a clown who has drunk an entire bottle of pure spirit. He wasn’t her target this time. Having passed Richard who was gnashing his teeth, she stood in front of the descent to the underground. The chill of the gloomy corridor didn’t give her the shivers that it used to do. Perhaps she was beginning to get used to the atmosphere and conditions here.

The quiet rustling of boots and the occasional muttering made it clear that Bianka wasn’t alone. She made no attempt to hide her presence when a surprised Mudry approached her.

“What are you doing here, Bianka?” he asked. “I must admit that you are the last person whose presence I would have expected.”

“Hello, Mudry. Don’t you need any help? I have already taken care of Dottore’s welfare and have free time at my disposal.”

Mudry hummed. “You’re unlikely to find anything interesting to do here. Due to the Master’s illness, a lot of research has been put on hold to improve his recovery. Otherwise, I’m sure he would have tried every possible way to sneak in here and analyse the results.” He snorted. “I only came here to check on the health of the test subjects… and to get away from Tesla’s screams.”

Bianka giggled.

“Unfortunately, we can’t hide here forever,” he continued. “Come, we’ll go back upstairs and stop by my study. We can take a short coffee break. We recently received a new shipment of high-quality Sumerian. It is downright delicious!”

The segment passed Bianka, walking towards the ramp. After a few steps, however, he stopped and turned around. The researcher was still in the same position, staring ahead. Mudry furrowed his brows.

“Are you all right?” he asked, returning to her side.

Bianka didn’t answer immediately. She was absent-minded, deep in thought. Finally, she swallowed nervously.

“Mudry…” she began, drifting off once again.

“Yes, Bianka?” he encouraged in a gentle voice.

She finally turned towards him. “Why don’t you and Dottore ever take me to the children’s cells?”

Mudry froze before looking away, frowning. “Why the sudden curiosity? You’ve never broached the subject before.”

This time, it was Bianka who broke eye contact. “I guess I was too stressed and immersed in gloomy thoughts before to pay attention to it. Come to think of it, though: isn’t it a little strange that I’ve been working here for so many months and haven’t yet got to know this part of the lab?”

Mudry shrugged. “I don’t think it’s strange. You were all shaky when you first found out about the younger occupants of this place.” Bianka almost snorted when she heard that euphemism. “And then, the death of that girl heightened your tension. You weren’t ready to go back down to the basements, let alone face an even bigger challenge.”

Bianka looked at him, tilting her head. “What if I’m ready now?”

Mudry squinted, staring at her inquisitively. “Is that why you came down here? Did you want to get to the children?”

Bianka made a noncommittal movement with her hand. In the end, however, she nodded. “I thought my first contact with them would go more successfully when Dottore wasn’t towering over us like a shadow.”

Mudry fell silent, not taking his eyes off her. She answered him with a calm gaze, showing no strong emotions.

“Forgive me, but I still don’t understand,” he said, shaking his head. “Why do you even want to go there? It’s not a pleasant sight, and your psyche is still not fully recovered. I would advise against this rather risky venture.”

Bianka furrowed her brows. “I am the Second Harbinger’s deputy. My duty is to—"

“Assist and help him with his research, yes, I know,” he broke in, then sighed. “Oh, Bianka, why are you placing such a burden on your shoulders? Under normal circumstances, I would applaud your level of commitment, but in this situation, it could end tragically. I believe you will regret this decision…”

Bianka was preparing to spit out another wave of arguments, but Mudry put a finger to her lips and cast her a chastising glance. Begrudgingly, she swallowed the words that were pressing on her lips.

“You will regret this decision,” he continued, “however, if you are determined, I won’t try to stop you again. Nor am I going to hide anything. You have made a decision, and you must bear the consequences. If you are ready, we can proceed.”

Bianka fell silent, nodding. Mudry led her to the end of the corridor, then walked through the door. Bianka hesitated, stopping at the threshold. She remembered her first descent into the basements and Dottore’s words that there was just another warehouse here. Who would have suspected that the truth would turn out to be so different?

The corridor here was no different – bare grey walls and two rows of doors blocked with panels. Mudry was waiting by the first room. He looked at her and raised an eyebrow. Bianka nodded. Satisfied, he unlocked the door.

Swallowing loudly, Bianka looked cautiously inside. The cell was occupied not by one, but two children lying in separate beds. They looked miserable with their pale skin, matted hair, and anguished faces. At the sound of the door opening, one of them, a girl who couldn’t be older than Fripon, raised her head. The other child, a small boy, didn’t move.

When Mudry stepped inside, the girl moved as far away as she could. Bianka tried to send her an encouraging smile, unfortunately, to no avail – the girl’s genuinely frightened gaze continued to follow Mudry’s every move. The segment approached the unconscious boy first. It was only when he began to touch, palpate, and auscultate him that the boy let out a quiet whine. Grief gripped Bianka’s heart – he must have been seriously ill or extremely tired if he could only muster a groan of protest.

Having completed a cursory examination, Mudry turned to the petrified girl. Seeing what was about to happen, she tried to push herself even deeper into the corner, as if she wanted to make the wall absorb her and hide her from the cruel world.

“No, I don’t want to!” she screamed.

“Shh,” Mudry murmured. “There will be no shots today; I just want to examine you.”

However, no words reached the girl. As soon as he brought his hand close to her, an ear- and brain-piercing scream escaped her throat.

“NO, LEAVE ME ALONE!” she howled. “MAMA! MAMAAA!”

Something inside Bianka began to crack, only to shatter into a thousand pieces a moment later. Held in a strange limbo, she watched Mudry, who gently directed the girl to lie down. Despite the wild cries that ripped from her little chest, she made no attempt to resist. Her arms were covered in bandages, but apart from that, she didn’t look as if there was anything wrong with her. Mudry examined her eyes, throat, lymph nodes, chest, and abdomen, before covering her with a quilt and placing a hand on her head.

Bianka watched the scenes unfolding before her with a mixture of heartbreaking sadness and silent horror. It was only when Mudry approached and wiped a tear from her cheek that she realised she was crying.

“Better not to stress her more,” he whispered. “Let’s go out into the corridor.”

Without looking back, Bianka followed the segment outside. Here, they both stopped while the heavy door closed behind them, sealing the forsaken children away from freedom.

Mudry glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, giving her time to digest what she saw. Bianka stared at the floor with absent eyes, furrowing her brows. “Where did they come from? Adults are convicted criminals, but children are a completely different story.”

“You’d be surprised to see how acts of extreme poverty and the desire to survive at all costs can push them,” he said. “The climate of Snezhnaya is unrelenting; there is no room for weak and abandoned individuals. Many of the children who ended up here formed robbery gangs. Others are orphans and outcasts; creatures left to fend for themselves who would have died buried under the snow anyway. A few are descendants of the Hidden Dagger members who were slain in battle. In most cases, we manage to change their views and incorporate them into the ranks of the Fatui, but the older ones are not so susceptible to our influence.”

Bianka pressed her lips into a thin line. Orphans and outcasts… She herself is an orphan. If she had been born in Snezhnaya, would her family have become the community of the House of the Hearth? Or would she have ended up here, in the dark underworld of the Zapolyarny Palace, where her only identity would have been a meaningless series of numbers? Only now did it occur to her how lucky she was that “Father” had taken her under her wing.

“And why are there two children in each room?” she asked instead. “Doesn’t the sight of a bedridden peer have a negative effect on them?”

“Not all children are in such a serious condition as that boy. In most cases, the presence of another person has a calming effect on them.” He looked at the door of the cell they left a minute ago. “I don’t know how much time he has left, but rather not much. When he dies, the girl will get a new companion.” He turned back to Bianka. “Not that long ago, all the children used to stay separately. That changed when one boy, driven by panic and a lack of hope for a better future, cut his veins with a piece of glass.”

It was only thanks to strong willpower that Bianka didn’t tumble to the floor. Seeing her faintness, Mudry rushed to her aid, but she knocked his hand away.

“He cut himself…” Bianka shook her head violently. No child should be forced to make such a decision! “How did this happen! All the dishes and cutlery for the prisoners are wooden!”

“Calm down, Bianka, or you’ll hurt yourself and Dottore will rip my head off!” he urged, grabbing her firmly by the arm. “Try not to give in to rage; your screams will disturb the children, which will affect their well-being and test results.”

Bianka took a few breaths, regaining control of her emotions. She nodded, to which Mudry loosened his grip.

“I don’t know how that glass found its way into the cell; maybe it was inattention, or maybe a deliberate act of one of the segments.”

“A deliberate act?” This time, Bianka’s voice was as weak as the last breath of a dying man.

Mudry’s embrace returned. “Even if that was the case, the culprit couldn’t have had bad intentions. Some might even say it was an act of mercy.”

Even though her conscience and heart rebelled at such treatment, Bianka had to admit he was right. Freedom has many forms, and everyone should have the right to choose it.

Mudry patted her shoulder. “Go back upstairs. That’s enough for the first time.”

“What? No, we were only in one room! I’ve hardly seen anything yet.”

Mudry scowled, to which Bianka replied with an equally hard look. After a few seconds of silent duelling, he sighed. “Dottore’s going to dispose of me, there’s no doubt about that… OK, we can examine a few more children. However, if you feel you can’t cope anymore—"

“I’ll let you know immediately,” she finished. “Let’s not stand here idly, the work is waiting!”

Having said that, she passed Mudry and set off down the corridor, her steps brisk. The segment rolled his eyes, whispered a short prayer for peace, and followed Bianka.

Working among the children wasn’t much different from her duties in the better-known part of the basements. Everyone had to be examined and, if necessary, administered the appropriate medicine. The only difference was that the prisoners here cried, screamed, and were more likely to resort to violence. It really wasn’t easy to listen to the heart of a child who had chosen as their sole purpose in life to turn Bianka into human stuffing for dumplings. Despite that, she remained calm, the only feelings accompanying her during these unpleasant procedures being sadness and compassion.

They checked the next three rooms. Bianka was heading towards the fourth when Mudry blocked her way.

“That’s enough,” he announced. “Today I won’t let you stay here any longer; you’ve seen much anyway.”

A sudden irritation boiled under Bianka’s skin. She looked into the segment’s eyes to voice another objection, but hesitated. Determination and firmness emanated from Mudry – qualities quite different from the gentleness and calmness for which he was known. He was so rarely annoyed… It was too easy to forget that he was the Second Harbinger here and held more power than Bianka.

Impatient with the lack of a clear response, the segment straightened up, towering over the increasingly anxious Bianka. “My office. Now.”

These three short words doused Bianka like a bucket of cold water. With a nod, she marched swiftly out of the corridor and left the underground, heat radiating from her cheeks. She didn’t like being treated like an unruly puppy. However, Mudry’s order carried with it an unexpected benefit – the deep aroma of Sumerian coffee would surely help with getting rid of the ever-present stench of meds and disinfectants.

****

“Dottore, what is that?”

Bianka held a small tablet right before his eyes. Squinting, the Doctor looked at it, then shrugged.

A red mist covered Bianka’s vision. “You said you were going to take the medicine! It’s been five days since you made the promise, and what? The pill is lying untouched on the bedside table!”

“Maybe I promised… or maybe I didn’t,” he coughed. “Give it up, Bianka. I’m not a child.”

“But you sure do act like one.”

A forced grunt broke the growing tension between them.

“Hey, don’t get upset with each other,” Yukii pleaded. “Why don’t we play something to lighten the atmosphere? I collect cards from Genius Invokation; I can split the deck between the four of us if you’re willing.”

Dottore’s only answer was a snort. Bianka glared at him. The kind-hearted Yukii really was trying. Whenever she wasn’t busy running and oiling the great machine that was the Snezhnaya’s economy, she was visiting Lord Pantalone and keeping the other pair of unfortunates company too. Her aversion to conflict and optimistic attitude to life infused Bianka with gratitude. That’s why Dottore’s lack of appreciation drove her to a limit that, if crossed, could have unpleasant consequences.

When Yukii’s proposal was met with a chilly reception, her smile paled. Pantalone, however, barked out a laugh.

“Don’t lose your animus, Yukii,” he said, patting her on the back. “Dottore just doesn’t want to admit that the rules are a mystery to him.”

“Not true!” Dottore hissed. “Of course I know the rules! Even an idiot could learn them.”

“In that case, he doesn’t want to admit that he always loses,” Pantalone teased further.

Dottore almost flew off the bed out of rage.

“Watch yourself, you blotch! You wouldn’t want to be my opponent. I’d defeat you in less than two—"

Bianka covered her ears with her hands. If the angry grunts, hisses, and curses didn’t stop in the next ten seconds, blood would be spilled. Unfortunately, she was afraid to close her eyes as well; if she wasn’t careful, one of the Doctor’s wildly thrashing limbs would inevitably become intimately acquainted with her nose. So, she was forced to watch Pantalone chuckle, Yukii grimace (which somehow expressed amusement, embarrassment, and terror at the same time), and Dottore continue his fit.

She tilted her head. Was Dottore’s hair always this shiny? She had never noticed him applying gel or conditioner to it before. Taking a cautious two steps forward, she stopped and stared, then scowled in disgust. There was no special product on his hair. It was simply greasy! Dottore had been in the infirmary for about a week. Had he even…

Having made the difficult decision to expose her ears to another wave of heated argument, Bianka grabbed a blue lock of hair. “When was the last time you made sure your hair didn’t have lice nesting in it?”

Dottore froze.

Noticing the strange sheen on his cheek, she grabbed his chin and tilted it towards her. Another grimace left no doubt as to her level of satisfaction. “And how long ago did you shave?”

If she needed any confirmation that Dottore didn’t have a positive answer for her, she got it in the form of an extended silence and an averted gaze.

Bianka sighed once again. “In that case, it must be dealt with. I’ll be right back. And swallow that pill.”

As Bianka disappeared behind the door, Dottore slumped back into bed. But then, the expectant gazes of Yukii and Pantalone snapped him into awareness.

He glared at them. “You don’t think I’m really going to take this, do you?”

“Ah, yes, I forgot you don’t want to get better,” Pantalone teased. “Do you like my company that much?”

“Ha! In your dreams,” he grumbled, wrapping himself with the quilt.

“Please, Lord Dottore,” Yukii whined, “take this medicine. After all, we wouldn’t want your health to get any worse.” A shiver shook her body. “And we certainly wouldn’t want to see you at loggerheads with Bianka.”

The Doctor eyed them grimly, then (very reluctantly) swallowed a small lozenge. Yukii’s noticeable relief almost managed to amuse him.

A few minutes later, Bianka returned with a woman carrying a tub full of water.

“Great, you can put it there, by the mirror,” she directed. When the maid carried out the order, Bianka thanked and dismissed her. She turned back to Dottore. A bag was slung over her shoulder. “All right, fleabag, sit down in the chair; we’ll take care of your hair.”

No one moved. Only when Bianka fixed her eyes on him did Dottore raise an eyebrow. “You weren’t talking to me, were you?” he sneered. “I hope I overheard, because I was under the impression that you used the word ‘fleabag.’”

“Your ears are fine. That’s what happens when you don’t take care of yourself. You’re getting overgrown with grease and dust.”

“Unbelievable! Who do you think you are?! Such insolence! Try calling me that again and—”

“You’ll wring my neck, cut me into pieces, or turn me into a robot,” Bianka finished, rolling her eyes. “Yes, I know your threats.”

Dottore glared.

“Come on, I’ll help you up.”

The grumbling that escaped Dottore’s lips was among the longest the palace had heard. Something about firmness and increased punishment reached Bianka’s ears before she sat him down in a chair. She then began to pull out more items from her bag – shampoo, conditioner, comb, scissors. Finally, she unwrapped a rolled-up rectangle of cloth and tied it around Dottore’s neck.

“We’ll start with your hair,” Bianka said, setting the shampoo and conditioner on the sink. “It looks like a bird’s nest.”

Dottore wanted to spit out a few unkind words, but they all evaporated when Bianka’s fingers glided through some strands. He shuddered. It wasn’t that he was disgusted by someone’s touch. It was just so intimate. When was the last time someone offered to wash his hair? Probably his own mother, when he was eight years old. His eyes wandered involuntarily to the mirror, watching Bianka focused on the task.

“I already know that hair washing hasn’t been high on your list of priorities lately, but have you at least combed it?” she asked.

“But of course!” he swore, avoiding her gaze.

“Mm, and I suppose you did it with the same determination with which you take your medication?”

Dottore decided to drop a veil of silence on this question.

Bianka sighed, grabbing a comb. While she struggled with tangles rivalling the Gordian Knot, Dottore remained unnaturally quiet. The researcher, however, was too focused on the task at hand to notice his stiffened muscles and big eyes.

When she achieved her almost impossible goal, she directed Dottore to tilt his head, switching the comb to a pitcher. The warm water running down Dottore’s hair made him shiver and hiss. Bianka looked down at him, raising her eyebrows, and he shot her an abashed look. Behind their backs, Pantalone and Yukii whispered.

The rest of the grooming passed much more quietly. Dottore got upset only once, when Bianka rubbed his scalp with shampoo with such force that she shook his whole head. But his angry growling and whining were answered with just a giggle.

“Don’t get so upset; I have to banish all the lice and scabies you’ve grown.”

“I don’t have lice!” he shouted. “Nor scabies!”

Further laughter nearly led to a fistfight. It was only thanks to Dottore’s malaise that Bianka saved her skin.

When she finished, the Doctor’s damp hair was incredibly soft. She hoped that the peach-scented lotion she had borrowed from Lady Columbina would perk him up a little. Fortunately, his face told her that she hadn’t yet exhausted all his reserves of patience.

“Well?” she asked. “Don’t you feel better with a fresh head? You might even regain some mental function.”

“I don’t think it works that way, Bianka,” he snorted. “Well, thank you, it’s really nice of you to help me with the hair care. Now, let me get back to—"

“Hey, not so fast!” She stopped him when he tried to sneak away to the safer area of his own bed. “What about the beard?”

Dottore gave her a menacing look, his attitude to the idea crystal clear.

Bianka leaned and stared at the short yet sharp hair covering the lower part of his face. “Don’t worry, it shouldn’t take long.”

“And how are you going to do tha—" He flinched, noticing a sharp object in Bianka’s hand. He blinked in disbelief. “You’re not going to get that near my face, are you?!”

“Why does it bother you so much?” She tilted her head. “It’s just a razor.”

“There is no such thing as ‘just a razor.’ All it takes is for your hand to slip a few centimetres and you’ll slit my throat.”

“Oh, don’t exaggerate, you’ll be fine.”

Dottore narrowed his eyes.

“I’m not a rookie! Some of the boys in the House of the Hearth matured faster; I helped them with shaving back then.”

Dottore was still far from being impressed, but Bianka didn’t give him time to hesitate – she turned his head towards the mirror, and when he opened his mouth to protest, applied a generous amount of foam to his face. The Doctor might have continued to complain… if his attention had not once again been consumed by Bianka’s touch. He looked at her slouchy figure and gentle smile as she tousled his hair.

Suddenly, the razor was right against his cheek. Amazingly, he didn’t even flinch when he felt its cool touch. At first, he tried to ignore it, analysing future experiments in his head instead, but after a few minutes, his gaze went to the mirror. Bianka’s entire posture expressed absolute concentration. She was careful as she moved the blade across his skin, removing hair after hair. Her hand resting on his jaw was so delicate. Crushing it would be all too easy. But…

Dottore couldn’t take his eyes off Bianka; a highly disturbing situation. Almost as if the whole world had shrunk to the chair he was sitting on. Something strange, yet not unwelcome, twitched in his chest, while a pleasant warmth slowly spread across his cheeks. He focused his gaze on Bianka’s hands. What if he… He slowly slid his hand out from under the fabric to lift it higher and high—

A scoff shattered the beautiful moment into hundreds of pieces. Dottore frowned, his eyes covering with a layer of ice. Pantalone was observing him, hiding a smile behind his hand. How dare he! Dottore was seconds away from achieving something amazing – he was sure of it – and this rattlebones brazenly interrupted him! Pantalone won’t escape this time, and when Dottore got done with him, his own mother wouldn’t—!

“Done!”

Dottore shuddered, returning to reality. The sharp stubble was gone. He ran his hand over his face, relishing the smooth cheeks without any cuts or blood.

The corners of his mouth lifted in a rare, sincere smile. “Quite good. I didn’t know you had such skills. Thank you.”

Bianka grinned and winked at him, then helped him back onto the bed. Dottore sank onto the mattress with a sigh of relief, sending her a warm look. They were both so engrossed in each other that they didn’t notice Lord Pantalone, who quietly dismissed the curious Yukii. Only a distinct grunt managed to get their attention.

“Ah, I’ve been lying here for so long,” he complained, “my hair has seen better days too.” He glanced at them out of the corner of his eye. “Dear Bianka, would you be so kind as to help me with this problem?”

Bianka blinked while Dottore clenched his hands on the quilt so tightly that he almost tore the fabric. After a second of awkward silence, she smiled. “Of course, it’s no problem. You’re welcome to the stylist’s chair!”

As she turned around to get the necessary utensils ready, Dottore fixed a crushing gaze on Pantalone, but just the banker grinned in return.

“Okay,” Bianka said, turning around. The banker quickly brought a businessman’s smile to his face. “Wow,” she marvelled, threading her fingers through his hair, “your hair is so soft, my lord.”

Pantalone’s chuckle was full of self-satisfaction. “The secret lies in the right choice of products. High quality, matching the hair type, and steadfastness in pursuit of the set goal are the keys to success.”

Dottore almost vomited, hearing the over-sweetened voice and solemn words. Though on the other hand… He touched his own hair. Would Bianka look at him more favourably if he took better care of himself?

He shook his head. Why did such nonsense even come into his head?! He was not an artist or a model, but a scientist; he didn’t have to please anyone!

Bianka took care of the Ninth Harbinger as dutifully as she would her own master, applying layer upon layer of conditioner, washing off dead skin, and massaging his scalp. All these activities drove Dottore to the brink of madness. His gaze bore into Regrator with such fervour that Pantalone didn’t immediately burst into flames was only by a miracle. The Doctor leaned out of bed more and more, until finally he had to cling to the cupboard to keep from collapsing on the floor.

And then, something happened that froze the blood in his veins. As Bianka finished, Panta-lone touched her hand, parroting Dottore’s earlier intentions. Having whispered something to her, she giggled, covering her mouth with her hand.

That was the last straw! Snapping out of his astonishment, the Doctor’s eyes began frantically looking from side to side. He had to do something before this farce went too far! His gaze rested on a glass of water. Without thinking, he grabbed it and threw it to the floor, then quickly fell back onto the mattress, groaning and clutching his head.

He had never fallen so low before. Even when he was banished from the village, even when he had to leave the Akademiya, he had maintained his dignity. Now there wasn’t even a remnant of it left. Maybe it was because of the fever and weakness, maybe it was out of rage at Pantalone, or maybe it was something else entirely, but he had no idea what was happening to his body and mind.

And the worst part was that, as Bianka turned towards him, all he felt was wild satisfaction.

“Dottore, what’s wrong?!” she cried, running to the bed.

His chest vibrated as if a purring sabrelion was living there.

“My head…” he groaned. “It hurts…”

“Take your hand away; I’ll take a look,” she ordered. “It may need to be bandaged.”

Still grunting, Dottore lowered his arm, which, however, was quickly replaced by Bianka’s warm hands gently brushing back his hair.

A sigh of relief escaped the Doctor’s lips. This time, the cat roared triumphantly, relishing its victory. However, when Dottore’s tired eyes rested on Pantalone, the monster fell silent like a shot deer. Regrator looked at him with feigned pity, the only things holding him back from erupting into a violent laughter being his force of will and developed sense of decorum.

Dottore didn’t have to feign a pained grimace anymore. He didn’t swallow the hook – he swallowed the whole rod along with the fisherman. How could he have been so naïve? He had not the slightest doubt that Pantalone would remind him of this scene for the rest of his life.

Bianka sighed, smiling with relief. “Fortunately, there is no injury. Maybe only a minor bruise will appear, nothing more than that.”

‘More likely on my pride,’ he thought bitterly.

Chapter Text

The days passed. Tesla still considered himself the king of the lab, the segments didn’t stop giving him murderous looks, Bianka continued to work on her plan… and Dottore was ill. She was becoming increasingly concerned about his condition. The first symptoms of infection had appeared ten days ago, yet there was no sign of recovery. On the contrary, the cough continued to plague him, and his fever stubbornly rose. This was the result of not taking his medication, which Bianka still suspected him of. She had to force him to cooperate, even if it meant shoving the damn pills straight down his throat.

Now, however, she had to deal with another issue.

Right after morning rounds, she began her search. It took her several minutes to find Erva; during that time, she had to avoid Mudry’s watchful eyes, Tesla’s annoying presence, and Fripon’s curious gaze. When she finally came across him in one of the warehouses outside the main laboratory rooms, she let out a breath. ‘Perfect.  No one will disturb us here.’

Erva was so absorbed in his work that he didn’t sense Bianka’s presence until she touched his arm. He jumped and turned to her, his eyes wide.

“Bianka, you scared me!” he said in greeting, then combed his hair in embarrassment. “What brings you here? Do you need any reagents? We’re out of sulphuric acid; Fripon used up the entire supply to soak Tesla’s trousers.”

“Actually…” she began, putting off the idea of reprimanding Fripon for later, “I was looking for you.”

Erva’s eyebrows shot up. “Me? Oh, well, in that case… how can I help you?”

Bianka gave a gentle smile. “I wanted to thank you again for the help you gave me and Kaem a few weeks ago. You risked a lot for us; you have great courage and generosity.”

If Erva had managed to maintain relative composure before, he completely lost control now.

“That’s very kind of you, Bianka,” he stammered, lowering his head to avoid eye contact, “but I don’t think we should talk about it. We’d be in serious trouble if someone heard us.”

“You’re right,” she agreed, though the smile never left her face. "However, I was thinking… maybe you could help me with one more little conundrum?”

Erva’s embarrassment vanished like mist dispersed by the wind, quickly replaced by anxiety.

“A conundrum? What conundrum?” he asked, alarmed. “If it’s something to do with toxins, maybe I can help. Worst case scenario, I can recommend some good textbooks.”

Bianka shook her head. “My problem is of a completely different nature. I wanted to conduct some… research, but I could use some help.”

“Oh, I see.” Erva visibly relaxed. “What kind of research?”

Bianka quickly explained her plan to him, as well as the role Erva was to play in it. The longer she spoke, the more his smile faded.

“Are you crazy?!” he shouted when she finished, his earlier anxiety turning into genuine terror. “This idea is terrible! If Master finds out that we even talked about it, he won’t ask questions. He’ll just kill us!”

“Don’t yell like that or someone will really hear us!” she hissed, looking over her shoulder. Only when he took a few deep breaths did she dare to speak again. “Dottore will never find out about this, and even if he does, your involvement will remain a secret. I’ll take all the blame.”

This didn’t calm Erva down one bit. “And she agreed to it?! Just like that?”

“I haven’t spoken to her yet, but I intend to do so as soon as po—"

“Oh no, no way!” he argued. “I won’t let you carry out such a risky operation! Do you know how many parts of this plan could go wrong? It’s just crazy and dangerous! You’d better go back to your workroom and not arouse suspicion.”

Bianka didn’t give up. For the next few minutes, she searched for arguments and threw them at the segment.

Finally, after a tough battle, Erva relented.

“No matter what I say, you’re going to try to do it anyway, aren’t you?” he asked.

Silence was enough of an answer. He sighed heavily.

“I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this. When do you want to implement your idea?”

Bianka grinned. “There’s no point in delaying; while Dottore is ill, we have full freedom. I’ll talk to the right people, and as soon as I get the green light, we’ll put the plan into action.”

Erva shuddered but nodded. “All right. Let’s get out of here before someone starts to get suspicious.”

Having left the warehouse, they both headed for the lab. All the way there, Bianka heard quiet mutterings; something about how they had both gone mad and would end up on the gallows. She smiled, adrenaline buzzing through her body. While she hoped the noose would remain mere fiction, the part about madness was very close to the truth.

When they reached the main hall, Bianka left Erva wringing his hands and headed for the workroom. Inside, though, she froze, seeing Mudry at the table. Cold sweat broke out on the back of her neck. What was he doing here? Had he somehow heard what she and Erva had been discussing?

Convinced that their plan had been discovered, she was about to run away. But before she could even turn around, Mudry stood up.

“Where have you been, Bianka?” he inquired, his gaze alert. “I searched the entire laboratory, but I couldn’t find you.”

Bianka remained motionless, petrified. But perhaps all was not yet lost. The question suggested that Mudry knew less than she had initially suspected.

“That’s because I—that’s because I wasn’t in the laboratory,” she stammered, scratching her neck. “I was helping Erva with the inventory in one of the warehouses.”

Mudry’s gaze softened. “Ah, that explains a lot.” His expression then became serious. “Well, I have something extremely important to discuss with you. I’m afraid Dottore’s condition is deteriorating.”

Bianka frowned, a new anxiety replacing her old one. “What makes you think that?” Mudry wasn’t one to panic. If he had taken the trouble to come to her workroom in person, the situation must be serious.

“I visited Master this morning to check up on him. In addition to pale skin and glassy eyes, his oxygen saturation is falling, and his blood pressure is so low that under normal circumstances, I would have given him pressor drugs. For some time, I had suspected that the treatment wasn’t going as it should, and today’s examination helped me confirm this.” He sighed heavily, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, he looked older than usual. “Instead of going into remission, the infection has progressed. Now we are dealing with pneumonia, not bronchitis.”

Bianka gasped. She herself had caught this dangerous infection when she was still a member of the House of the Hearth. The pain, relentless cough, and overwhelming exhaustion were still bright in her mind. The thought that Dottore was suffering from the same thing made her heart ache.

“What can we do to help him?” Bianka asked.

“First, we must stop the infection from spreading to prevent sepsis. Unfortunately, I’m afraid Dottore is still unwilling to take his medication. So we’ll have to take care of it ourselves.”

With that, he turned to the table where Kurage was sniffing at a small container. Having lifted the lid, Bianka saw a small vial of white powder inside.

Mudry took out the container and began to examine its contents. “This is benzathine penicillin. An antibiotic. It has a special property – a single intramuscular dose is absorbed over a period of up to two weeks. Thanks to this, we can ensure that the concentration of the drug in the tissues of our wayward patient remains high.”

Bianka smiled. “That’s great news, Mudry! Although Dottore probably won’t like the idea.” She shuddered, an image of a syringe that would be needed to perform the procedure materialising in her head. Fortunately, this time the needle wouldn’t be pointed at her. In fact, she would have no contact with it at all. “However, I hope that your experience with numerous patients will allow you to handle this matter efficiently.”

Mudry’s body shook with a deep chuckle. Bianka raised her eyebrows, looking at him out of the corner of her eye.

“I must correct your mistake,” he said. “I wouldn’t have come to you just to tell you about my idea; you will also be actively involved in it.” He held out the vial towards her. “And here is your role.”

Bianka looked at the container, then at Mudry, then back at the container. Her mind couldn’t comprehend his words, as if the suggestion itself was so absurd as to be unreal.

“But what am I supposed to do with it?”

Mudry’s smile was so forced it looked like a grimace. “I would like you to administer the medicine.”

Although she tried to convince herself that her ears were playing tricks on her, there was no mistaking his request.

“Are you crazy?!” she shouted, recoiling from the vial as if it contained a poisonous snake. “Why should I do it? I have absolutely no experience in giving injections. For Archons’ sake, I’m afraid of needles, Mudry!”

“I know that very well, and that’s why I think you’re the perfect candidate for this task,” he reassured. "Why would I want you to do it? It’s very simple – Dottore trusts you the most out of all of us. If I started hanging around him, he would immediately suspect something, and I would prefer to avoid any form of violence in the infirmary; I value my life. But he is used to your presence. Besides, who would expect a person with trypanophobia to have the object of their greatest fear in their arsenal?”

“Wait a minute,” she interrupted. “Am I to understand that, according to you, I should give Dottore an injection in secret?!”

Mudry raised one eyebrow. “And do you think Master would consciously agree to this procedure, even if you were the one performing it?”

Bianka bit her lip. Mudry was right; they couldn’t risk Dottore rebelling and losing trust in her as well. However, even if she agreed to this completely misguided idea, there was still one big problem.

“What about my nursing skills… or rather, my lack of them?” she grumbled. “Intramuscular injections are not a piece of cake. You have to feel the muscle, insert the needle at the right angle, and aspirate to make sure the vessels remain intact.”

“Ah, so you already know the theory. That’s great!”

Bianka glowered.

"All that’s left is practice,” he continued, unbothered. “We shouldn’t have any major problems with that either. After all, there are plenty of training subjects waiting right below us.”

“Excuse me? You want me to learn how to give injections on prisoners? And then do the same to Dottore?!” A cry of amusement mixed with terror escaped her throat. “There’s no way that’s going to work.”

“If we’ve come to an agreement, it’s best to go now.” Mudry once again didn’t bother to listen to Bianka’s complaints. “We have to act before Master’s condition worsens. Follow me!”

Mudry passed the speechless Bianka and left the room. The researcher stood rooted to the spot for a good ten seconds. Then, she turned her gaze to Kurage, who was staring at her motionlessly, as if he himself was surprised by the situation.

“He’s completely lost his mind,” she muttered. “And so have I. This place is slowly turning us all into dangerous lunatics.” Her gaze softened. “Will you come with me? I would fancy some emotional support; otherwise I’ll need treatment too.”

Kurage didn’t need to be told twice – as if he understood every word, he jumped into the pocket of her gown. Once snug, Bianka sighed and trudged after Mudry.

When she entered the hall, the segment was already heading towards the underground passage. She hurried after him.

“Where are we going, dear assistant?”

Bianka jumped. The figure of Tesla suddenly appeared in front of her, smiling mockingly.

“I haven’t seen you around here much lately,” he continued. “I’ve started to miss you.”

Bianka pressed her lips into a thin line. She glanced behind the source of her irritation, but Mudry didn’t notice that she was in trouble.

“Sorry, Tesla, I don’t have time right now,” she grumbled. “I’m quite busy—"

“Ah-ah-ah, why are you in such a hurry?” He placed his hand on her chest as she tried to slip past him. “As it happens, I need you right now.”

“But Mudry—"

“Mudry can wait a moment!” Bianka flinched when his smug smile turned into a grimace of anger. “Look at this beauty.” He pointed to the Ruin Grader. A grin returned to his face. “I’ve been working on it for a long time; longer than you’ve been here. Now, it’s finished. I wanted to try it out in combat; see if the joints are well oiled and the laser’s destructive power is absolutely devastating.” He gave her a maniacal look. “You would be perfect as my assistant.”

Bianka froze, her eyes wide. Was Tesla really suggesting what she thought he was suggesting? She glanced at the grader. Thanks to Dottore’s training, she was getting better at fighting, but she didn’t think she could defeat this giant.

Seeing her frightened look, Tesla burst out in loud, high-pitched laughter. “I think you misunderstood me. I wasn’t going to use you as a guinea pig. How could I dare expose our delicate, practically defenceless assistant to such a great risk?” Bianka clenched her hands into fists, ready to decorate Tesla’s eye with a juicy purple bruise. “No, my plan is to use another robot from our impressive collection. You would help me check for damage and record my findings. So, what do you say? Are you in?”

Bianka had no desire whatsoever to participate in a battle between two ancient machines in the company of a segment that had not only one, but all of its screws loose. Did she have a choice, though?

“Listen, Tesla, I’d really like to help you, but—"

“…she won’t be able to until tomorrow.”

Bianka and Tesla turned around when they heard Mudry’s calm voice.

“You’ll have to excuse us,” he said, “but we have a very important task to complete that cannot wait.”

“Really?” Tesla raised his eyebrow. “And what task could be so urgent, hm?”

Bianka tried to signal Mudry to not let Tesla in on the secret, but he either didn’t see her or decided to ignore her. He briefly explained to the younger segment the plan to rescue Dottore, in which Bianka was to play the leading role. When he finished, Tesla’s eyes were wide as saucers.

“You want to give Dottore antibiotics against his will? And she’s supposed to do it?” Another burst of laughter swept through the hall. “What a joke, even I rarely venture into such distant corners of madness! Frankly, it might turn out to be even more interesting than my grader! Let’s go, then.”

Bianka scowled at him. “What do you mean, ‘let’s go’? You’re not going to accompany us, are you?”

Tesla turned abruptly towards her. “Why not? Is my presence so repulsive to you?” This time, his chuckle sent shivers down Bianka’s spine. "I don’t think you understand the situation you’re in. Dottore isn’t here; he won’t stand behind you and bark to save you from trouble. In his absence, the segments have absolute power, which means I can go wherever and whenever I want.”

An angry squeak came from Bianka’s pocket. Kurage left his safe hiding place and shot Tesla a grim look.

Bianka smiled mockingly when he shuddered. "Dottore may not save me, but I wouldn’t say the same about Kurage.”

"Never mind; this mouse won’t stop me. Now that we’ve cleared that up, we can proceed.”

Tesla turned away, and, whistling softly, headed for the basements. Bianka watched him, her eyes narrowed in anger. An audience! Archons. It was good that at least the rest didn’t know. It would be a disaster if Fripon found out about their pla—

“Why are you all going to the basement?” a child’s voice muttered beside her. “Has something extraordinary happened?"

A deafening, desperate scream rang out in Bianka’s head. She glanced at Fripon, who was looking at her with a dangerous glint of curiosity in his eye.

Never ever would she agree to hold a syringe again after this.

No one knows how it happened, but half a minute later, they were heading down the ramp in a group of not three, not even four, but six people! Richard and Erva brought up the rear, lively discussing Mudry’s decision and Bianka’s “sacrifice.” Bianka tried not to pay attention to them. The challenge she had taken on would require strong willpower. How was she supposed to do that in the company of five excited segments? She shook her head. She couldn’t think about it, or else she would run away from the palace, and Dottore would die thanks to his hopeless stubbornness.

After a short while (far too short for Bianka), they stood in front of the cell door. Mudry placed his hand on the panel and pointed to the dark interior. “Ladies first.”

Bianka gave him a murderous look and stepped inside, a chorus of whispers behind her.

The cell was completely dark. Only when Mudry turned on the light did they see the patient. They were unconscious, and even the glow of the bulb was unable to wake them. Good, Bianka didn’t feel up to stabbing someone who would thrash like a fish out of water at the sight of their cheerful group.

Mudry and Richard turned the patient on his side.

"Okay, let’s get to work,” Mudry said, taking a syringe with a secured needle and a vial of liquid out of his pocket. “Come, Bianka, I’ll show you how to give him a shot. Don’t be afraid, come a little closer, I won’t bite. Great, now listen. An intramuscular injection is given in three areas: the thigh, the arm, or the buttock.”

Mudry turned to the patient and, to Bianka’s horror, pulled his trousers down slightly.

“The easiest and safest place is the buttock,” he continued. “Look; to choose the right spot, you have to imagine two lines—"

“Wait, stop!” Bianka interrupted him. “There was no mention of me having to insert the needle into Dottore’s butt. How am I supposed to get him to lie down and turn his back to me?”

“You’re a smart girl; I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

With each successive statement, Mudry was getting closer to being blacklisted by Bianka. And complimenting her certainly wasn’t going to help.

"Back to the topic, you have to imagine two lines forming a cross. You inject at a ninety-degree angle into the upper outer quadrant. And remember to aspirate the needle. Like this.”

Mudry gave a quick demonstration. Bianka wasn’t sure how much of it she understood, terror preventing her from thinking clearly. And it grew even more when he took a second syringe out of his pocket.

“Now it’s your turn.” Seeing her eyes wide with fear, he chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’ll be here to ensure that everything goes well.”

Swallowing hard, Bianka grabbed what she considered a deadly weapon. Her hand was shaking so much that the syringe almost fell to the ground. A stifled cackle came from the segments. Bianka glared at them. Although she couldn’t pinpoint the culprit, she had her suspicions.

When her grip on the syringe was finally secure, she approached the patient, but almost instantly froze, hearing multiple shuffling sounds behind her. A quick glance told Bianka that the segments, driven by curiosity, had come closer and were now practically pressing against her. She sighed. It wouldn’t be a surprise if one of them took out a camera.

Her first self-conducted injection went surprisingly well… or rather, it would have, if a certain moron named Tesla hadn’t decided to grab her arms and whisper “Boo!” just as she was about to pierce the skin. It took a good five minutes for all the screams, squeals, and curses to die down. Fortunately, the moron named Tesla was pushed to the back of the crowd. For some reason, his nose was swollen. It was possible that this had something to do with Kurage, who was standing on Bianka’s shoulder and licking his muzzle.

After the successful procedure, Mudry led them to a few more patients. This time, the difficulty went up. Her test subjects were conscious and often aggressive. Giving an injection to a struggling and spitting prisoner required a lot of finesse on her part. When they were finally done, Bianka was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Faced with the choice between fighting a male sabrelion and giving another intramuscular injection, she would’ve chosen the sabrelion.

Unfortunately, life had other plans for her.

“Do you really think that after administering a few shots with your assistance, I’m ready to take care of Dottore on my own?” she bemoaned. “The same Dottore who growls at me every time I try to get him to swallow a pill? The one who grabs all his subordinates by the throat for even the smallest mistakes?”

“Don’t worry, Bianka, Master treats you differently than the rest of the Fatui,” Mudry reassured. “You’ve made mistakes more than once, and yet he’s never grabbed you by the throat. At most, by the jaw.”

“Is that supposed to comfort me?!”

“Okay, forget what I said. Unfortunately, we don’t have any more time for you to practise, but I believe in you. Master has a special fondness for you, so nothing bad should happen. We’ll be waiting nearby and intervene if the situation takes an undesirable turn.”

The grimace on Bianka’s face clearly showed her frustration and concern, but without a word, she took the syringe from Mudry’s hands.

“Good luck! I’m keeping my fingers crossed.”

“Though, if you don’t survive this action,” Tesla added, “I’ll be happy to turn your body into a robot. This lab could use a little beauty.”

Bianka glared at him, then headed for the exit.

As she walked down the corridors, fear tore her nerves to shreds. Her goal was simply to help a patient recover, not to fight to the death with the powerful Second Harbinger. Besides, Mudry and the others would be nearby if the task proved too much for her. Yes, everything would be fine.

Everything would be fine.

As she climbed the stairs to the first floor, she let out a surprised murmur. The rhythmic clatter of heels as sharp as daggers, the Harbinger’s cloak and impenetrable face. What an unexpected twist of fate that “Father” was on the exact same stairs at the same moment as Bianka.

Arlecchino shot her a fleeting glance. Bianka’s thoughts immediately turned to the laboratory’s underground. She couldn’t pass up such an opportunity, not when it was practically handed to her on a plate.

So, as they passed each other on the stairs, Bianka grabbed her old guardian and brought her lips close to her ear. “Tonight, outside the palace,” she whispered. “By the supply carts.”

Their contact ended as quickly as it had begun. Arlecchino gave no indication that she had understood or even heard the message. She walked unhurriedly downstairs and disappeared into one of the corridors. Bianka wasn’t concerned. “Father” was nothing but careful in the game of cunning and hidden motives. She had no doubt that they would meet at the designated place.

Now, however, Bianka had other things on her mind. Passing through the main room of the infirmary, she nervously rummaged in her pocket. The syringe was in place. She flinched as she disappeared into the corridor.

Dottore wasn’t arguing with Pantalone, for once. Yukii was also present, reporting on the latest princely sums at the Northland Bank. Not wanting to upset her, Bianka turned to her patient.

The Doctor looked much worse than he had a few days earlier. Sunken cheeks and weakened muscles were effects of malnutrition. Simple breathing seemed to require a great deal of effort, given his constant panting and grunting. A cool cloth was placed on his forehead; otherwise, the high fever would have turned his brain to mush. He lay with his eyes closed, but when he heard her footsteps, he lifted one eyelid.

“You’re finally here,” he grunted. “I was starting to get bored.”

“Since when am I your personal entertainer?” she teased.

The corner of Dottore’s mouth lifted slightly. He was lying on his back, so there was no way she could give him his medicine now. She had to get him to turn his back to her or at least change position. But how could she do that without arousing his suspicion?

“How are things downstairs?” he asked. “Have you managed to come up with any new toxins? Or are you working on improving the old ones?”

“I’m working on the old ones,” she said, sitting down on a stool. “Creating new isn’t that easy.”

Actually, maybe she could just push him on his side herself? He was so weak that he probably wouldn’t have the strength to resist.

“I heard that Tesla is trying to dethrone me. Don’t let him; with full autonomy, he would turn the lab into a desolation of automatons in a week.”

“Don’t worry, we have the situation under control.”

On the other hand, it was a rather bad idea. He might not be able to fight, but she didn’t believe he was completely defenceless, even in his current—

"Are you okay? You seem distracted."

Bianka cursed inwardly. Dottore knew her too well; she couldn’t hide her nervousness. This mission couldn’t end because of her mistake.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry,” she said, calming him down. “It’s just… The lab isn’t the same without you. We could use someone who knows what to do and how to manage us.”

It wasn’t a complete lie. The atmosphere at the Second Harbinger’s complex had really changed. Everyone was busy with their own research or simply slacking off for half a day, which meant that the work was progressing at a snail’s pace. Only Tesla was able to move the segments to work together, but even he usually stuck to his own machines.

Dottore sighed heavily, rubbing his face. “Bunch of loafers, they can’t do anything on their own.” He gave her a tired look. “Don’t worry about it, Bianka. I’ll be back in the lab soon to restore order. You just help where you can and keep working on the poisons.” He snorted. “I might even ask you for another batch of poison from that plant from Natlan. It all depends on whether Pantalone can keep his mouth shu—"

His body was shaken by a deep bout of wet cough. When it finally ended, Dottore looked even more exhausted than before. His breath quick and shallow, he was clutching his chest and grimacing in pain.

Bianka watched, silent concern glazing her eyes. She placed her hand on Dottore’s forehead. The burning skin was disturbing, but what frightened her the most was the fact that Dottore didn’t react to her touch at all. A quick glance at the bedside table assured her that the pill was untouched.

“Dottore, perhaps you should take this medicine after all,” she murmured. “You should be getting better, but you look worse than when you first fell ill. Mudry said you have pneumonia. Antibiotics may be your only chance.”

For a brief, hopeful moment, she thought she had managed to talk some reason into Dottore. But after a few seconds, he shook his head, crushing her delicate hope like a cockroach.

“It’s pointless,” he mumbled. “I’ve been taking this medicine for several days, but I don’t see any improvement. Why do you think it would help me?”

“Probably because you didn’t take it regularly!” Pantalone and Yukii looked at her in surprise at her outburst. “You know very well that patients’ insubordination hinders recovery. If you had followed the doctors’ recommendations, you would already be healthy!”

“Enough, Bianka!” he snapped, narrowing his eyes. “I’ve lived much longer than you, and I know what helps my body. I assure you that this pathetic pill won’t do anything. I just need more rest, peace, and quiet, and you’re not helping by yelling at me and shoving tablets down my throat.”

Well, it’s abundantly clear that Dottore would rather drop dead than agree to a life-saving injection. So Bianka would have to take the risk, which at best would end with only wild screams and her lord slowly recovering, and at worst with her dismembered body.

‘Nothing like another ordinary day at the Zapolyarny Palace,’ she thought bitterly.

Then, Kurage poked his white head out of the pocket. He scanned the room with his eyes (and nose), and unceremoniously jumped onto the bed, settling down where Dottore’s stomach should have been.

“Hey, you brought that furball here?!” Dottore growled. Kurage looked at him with complete disinterest before settling deeper into the duvet. A pulsing artery appeared on Dottore’s temple. “Get off; I don’t want you to pee on me!”

Seeing the Doctor’s hand coming, Kurage cut his stick. He dashed with a wild squeak and jumped off the bed, moving away from Bianka and closer to Pantalone.

The banker noticed the small animal and began to follow it with curious eyes; meanwhile Yukii ley out a high-pitched scream and ran out of the room. For a moment, everyone froze in bewilderment. Even Kurage’s perpetually moving nose stilled, as if he couldn’t believe he had such great power.

“Hey, stop, you cheese-eater!” Dottore broke the silence, leaning his head out from behind the mattress. “Don’t run under the bed! I’m not going to smell your excrement when I’m sick. I’d rather not smell it at all!”

As if to spite him, Kurage did just so. Dottore coughed and leaned out even further, practically hanging his upper body off the mattress.

Bianka gritted her teeth. Did he always have to act like a fool? Was it really too much to ask him to just lie still and rest? But—oh! Dottore was lying on his stomach with his back to her, his hands lost somewhere in the darkness under the bed. She wouldn’t get a better chance than this.

While groans and angry squeaks reached her ears from the floor, Bianka fumbled with her coat pocket, finally pulling out the syringe. She removed the cap protecting the needle and adjusted her grip. Unfortunately, her hand wouldn’t stop shaking. She had no time to remedy this. When she loosened her grip to avoid painful cramps, she reached towards Dottore’s trousers with her free hand…

The Doctor exclaimed triumphantly and began to crawl back up. Bianka quickly backed away and hid the syringe behind her back, while Dottore revealed a hand that was Kurage’s temporary prison.

“No matter how clever you are, you’re no match for me,” he whispered ominously, bringing his face close to Kurage’s muzzle.

Bianka heard the rapid chattering of the mouse’s teeth as it tried to bite his nose. Dottore didn’t show even a hint of concern at this behaviour. Scoffing, he reached out his hand towards Bianka. “Take this little demon and don’t come here with him again.”

Having put the syringe in her trouser pocket, Bianka took Kurage, cursing her fate. Why did the heavens choose this day to mock her? She was so close! How was she supposed to complete her task now?

As disappointment fell upon her like a heavy shroud, she glanced towards the window. The whole world – the sky, earth, rocks, and trees – was glaringly white, dominated by the undisputed ruler of this land. The view was far from uplifting or inspiring her with the perfect idea for a safe procedure. She shifted her gaze.

Pantalone was watching her, his eyes widened in surprise. Bianka’s heart stopped. She was so preoccupied with Dottore that she completely forgot about the other harbinger! He had surely seen the syringe in her hand; it was not difficult to guess her intentions.

She cursed silently. Would Regrator frame her? Inform Dottore of the offence she had almost committed in full awareness? She should go straight to the gravediggers and ask for a shovel for her own tomb.

Pantalone narrowed his eyes and sent her a sly smile, then turned his gaze to Dottore. “Doctor, what a shame!”

Dottore’s head turned towards him with such speed as if Pantalone had become a new source of gravity. “Shame?” he repeated, frowning. “What shame?”

‘Exactly, what shame?’ Bianka thought.

“Scared of such a little mouse?” Pantalone continued. “I beg you, it’s completely harmless! Better not admit it in front of others if you don’t want to be a source of their laughter.”

Dottore stared at him for a long time, incredulous. Bianka herself didn’t look any better.

“WHAT?!” Dottore’s roar was as piercing as Inazuma’s lightnings. “I wasn’t scared of that stupid mouse! It was your oversensitive assistant who ran away screaming as soon as she saw Kurage’s bald tail. I’m not afraid of anything!”

"There, there, I know you wanted to hide it, but there’s no use crying over spilt milk. I saw you flinch when that cute little creature jumped on your bed. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

"You blind mole! You should go to an ophthalmologist, because your glasses clearly don’t work if you thought I could be scared of some…”

Bianka stared at the two men who were exchanging increasingly bitter remarks. What was going on here? Pantalone hadn’t mentioned her plan, for which she was grateful. However, she didn’t suspect that he would start teasing the genuinely ill Dottore like a complete jerk. Was this a form of payment for keeping the secret? In that case, she would have preferred him to target her with his taunts, not the Doctor, whose anger wasn’t helping with recovery at all.

Moved by an exceptionally perfidious remark, Dottore growled and turned towards Pantalone. “No, it was your mother who couldn’t cook, and that’s why you have a distorted sense of taste!” Bianka had no idea how they had gone from arguing about a mouse to arguing about mothers and taste sensations. It was beneath even their dignity. "If you could, you would only eat Fontainian fish and chocolate pancakes. And drink your damn Oolong!”

Dottore began to show signs of wanting to strangle Lord Pantalone. When he got up on his knees, a murderous glint in his eyes, Bianka gasped in sudden realisation. She glanced at the banker. The ever-smiling Pantalone gave her a fleeting glance. It was brief and inconspicuous, yet his message was clear: do what you have to do.

She wasn’t going to waste this opportunity. Grabbing the syringe, she stood right behind Dottore. She didn’t have to worry about being noticed – his entire attention was focused on the verbal battle with the silver-tongued harbinger.

She reached out her hand, but just as she was about to touch his trousers, the Doctor gathered his remaining strength and stood on the mattress.

“I hate you, Regrator, I hate you!” he yelled, coughing and wheezing. “I curse the day I first saw your black shag! You’re mean, fake, you argue with me at every opportunity, harass me in my lab and… and…” Dottore fell silent for a moment, shaking his head frantically. "AND YOU MAKE ME KEEP A STOCK OF THAT AWFUL TEA!”

Bianka jumped at the furious Doctor, grabbed his trousers, pulled them down, and inserted the needle.

****

Imagine paradise.

Vast meadows covered with colourful flowers. A forest bathed in sunlight, where a stream babbles under the branches of trees bending with fruit. In the distance, majestic mountains dusted with a layer of soft snow. Everywhere you look – life. Herds of deer make their way through the forest undergrowth. Shrews, mice, frogs, and tiny beetles reign over the forest floor. Silver-scaled fish jump out of the stream from time to time. The meadow is a separate microcosm – busy ants scurry between the flower stems. Spiders lurk under leaves and among flower petals, waiting for unsuspecting prey. Bees collect pollen, communicating to their companions where the most abundant areas are. Carefree butterflies dazzle with their variety of colours. Two eagles glide lazily over this entire kingdom.

There is no more beautiful place to settle down and spend the rest of one’s life.

Now imagine that the eternal sun is obscured by a sinister cloud. A low rumble can be heard in the distance. It grows louder and louder until it turns into a deafening roar. Suddenly, a monstrous wall of deadly power appears on the horizon. Dust, rock fragments, and raging fire. In the blink of an eye, it reaches the peaceful meadow and forest. Flowers burn to ashes, trees are uprooted, the earth is churned up, and all life is wiped off the surface. Moving on, the cloud crushes majestic mountains as if they were a house of cards and completely obscures the blue sky.

In an instant, a wonderful corner of the world is turned into a dirty, toxic, lifeless wasteland.

This is roughly how one would describe the inhuman scream that tore its way out of Dottore’s throat and into the outside world.

Like an apocalyptic force, the roar attacked Bianka’s eardrums, broke through to her brain, dug its claws into the delicate tissue, grabbed her heart in its fangs, and rearranged all her organs. The woman didn’t even register what she was doing. In the face of a creature capable of making such a sound, the only thing she could think of was to run away until she reached the other side of the globe. She didn’t know if she had hit the right spot, aspirated the needle, or even injected the drug. Her soul was overcome with a primal terror, causing her to drop the syringe and stand still like a mouse waiting for a snake’s deadly kiss.

Dottore was dazed. One moment, he was pouring out all the bile that had accumulated in his heart and soul onto Pantalone, and the next, an unbearable pain exploded in his buttock. He turned around, fully prepared to crush, tear apart, and beat the madman who had dared to attack him. However, when he realised that the culprit was not an ordinary man in the street, but Bianka, the cogs in his head stopped with a loud grinding noise. Instead of pouncing and tearing her to pieces, he merely pushed her away.

The pain still didn’t subside. With dizziness, a burning pain in his chest, and a persistent cough, Dottore felt around his back and grabbed something that definitely shouldn’t have been there. He pulled out the devilish object and raised it to his fever-blurred eyes.

A syringe. Empty.

Suddenly, another squeal rang out in the corridor. A second later, Yukii rushed into the room, looking even more terrified than before, followed by a whole delegation of masked segments led by the alarmed Mudry. At the same moment the old segment signalled to Richard and Tesla, Erva materialised next to Bianka and shielded her with his body.

Dottore frowned. “What’s going—?”

Richard and Tesla grabbed him and, after a brief struggle, knocked him down onto the mattress. Yukii was still shrieking, well aware of the mouse running freely. Pantalone moved as far away as he could, shooting nervous glances at the assembled crowd…

…And Bianka wondered when Her Majesty’s personal guard would rush into the small room and drag everyone to the catacombs for disturbing the peace.

After some thought, though, she came to conclusion this wouldn’t happen soon – Dottore’s unearthly roar, the presence of more than two harbingers, Yukii’s wild screams, Tesla’s maddening laughter, and the fact that no one had left the room yet could give the impression that they were performing a ritual to cast a curse or summon ancient demons. Who in their right mind would want their family to be cursed for a thousand generations? It was better to leave these lunatics to their own devices and pretend that nothing strange was happening.

Bianka’s eyes shot around the room. From Dottore, to Pantalone, to Kurage, back to Dottore, only to see Mudry approaching him, holding another syringe. Dottore, noticing him at the same time, lurched backward, and suddenly, each of the segments fell to the ground screaming, clutching their heads and tearing at their hair.

The Doctor managed to get back on his feet. “What was in that syringe?!” he gasped, glaring at the segments with a deranged look. “What was in it?”

Heart pounding, Bianka glanced back and forth between him and the segments as they writhed on the floor. Saliva began to drip from his mouth, his question becoming more and more forceful with each repeat. His bloodshot eyes fell on Bianka.

‘I’m going to die here,’ flashed through her mind when he reached out and took a step towards her. ‘Killed by my own lord.’

But when he was at the edge of the bed, Dottore stopped. His mantra became more and more garbled. Suddenly, he staggered, and the segments seemed to regain control of their own bodies. The four of them threw themselves at Dottore, blocking his view of Bianka and overwhelming him so that he was lying on his side. This time he gave up without a fight.

“Wha’ was ‘n that s’ringe?” he persisted.

“Midazolam,” Mudry replied.

Dottore fell silent, staring at him with an absent gaze. Bianka frowned. Midazolam? Mudry told her something different.

Another cry, this time way less intense, snapped her out of her reverie, sending violent shivers through her body. For the second time that day, the needle pierced Dottore’s body. He tried to push Mudry away, but the drowsiness and the segments holding him in place effectively made his task impossible.

When the utter helplessness reached his consciousness, Dottore’s chest vibrated with another whimper. Full of grief, sadness, and a sense of betrayal, the howl, almost a sob, was like a dagger mercilessly stabbed into Bianka’s soul.

The Harbinger’s tormented face turned to the only person in the room he felt he could still trust. “Panta’one,” he slurred, reaching out his hand. “Help me, Panta’one.”

Pantalone burst into gentle laughter. “It’s all right, Dottore. Your mean, fake, unbearable friend who makes you keep a supply of Oolong is here with you.”

Regrator reached out to him, the distance between the beds allowing them to join hands in a comforting grip. Dottore groaned, breathing heavily. This wasn’t what he had in mind when he asked for help, but in the current situation, there was nothing else he could do.

Mudry waited a moment for Dottore to calm down completely, then put an oxygen mask on his face – another remedy he had refused to use until now.

Feeling pressure on his face and the back of his head, the Doctor tried to growl, but the sound he managed to make carried more sadness than menace. “I don’ wan’ th’s.”

Mudry had no intention of listening to him. While everyone remained in absolute, respectful silence (even Yukii had calmed down by now), he drew the curtains and returned to the Doctor’s side. “Go to sleep.”

When he turned off the lamp, Dottore tried to argue, but one stern look convinced him that in his current state, he would get nowhere. With a final grunt of reproach, he slowly closed his eyes.

Mudry watched him for a moment, a strange melancholy rare for him hidden in his gaze. “I’m sorry, Master, but the time for patience and understanding is over.” He turned to the other patient. “It would be best if you rested too, Pantalone. And for Archons’ sake, don’t upset him anymore, or he’ll never recover.”

The banker, true to his nature, chuckled. “Don’t worry, noble Mudry, I don’t need help staying calm. I’ll keep an eye on this pitiful madman. Taunting Dottore can be truly exhilarating, but after a while even the best fun gets boring. It’s high time we took a break from each other.”

Satisfied with the answer, the segment covered Dottore’s eyes with a clean cloth so that no one could see his ugly scars, adjusted his blanket, and chased everyone outside. Bianka only managed to whisper a quick, “Thank you” to Pantalone before the door closed with a quiet click.

“Medicine and rest should finally help him. I think we can count on a breakthrough,” Mudry concluded. "I’m glad you managed to do it, Bianka. Thanks to the courage you showed today, Dottore will start to recover.”

“It’s good that the operation was ultimately successful,” she replied. “But, Mudry, you weren’t completely honest with me. Midazolam?”

The segment scratched the back of his neck. “I apologise for this minor change. My request for you to administer penicillin was not a lie. However, while you were undergoing accelerated training, doubts began to arise in my mind. In the end, I decided it would be better if Master was given something to calm him down first, and only then the right medicine. You know, in case he decided to decimate the population of the Zapolyarny Palace by several dozen individuals.”

“I’d love to see such an extermination,” Tesla mused. “Melodious screams of terror, blood pouring onto the floors, staining the carpets scarlet, and decorations in the form of internal orga—"

Richard and Erva gave him such a crushing look that it was a miracle his own bodily fluids didn’t become the new fashion in wall decorations.

“Please, no more arguing,” Mudry groaned. “I’ve had enough antagonistic interpersonal relationships for one day.” He looked at Yukii, who was standing to the side with a strange expression on her face. “I’m sorry, the last few minutes must have been shocking for you. I hope they weren’t traumatic.”

Yukii slowly focused her gaze on Mudry. “E-everything’s f-f-fine. I’ll go to my room. I’ll rest a little and I’ll be—"

Kurage poked his head out of the pocket again. Yukii froze in terror, then screamed and ran away, this time for good.

Mudry sighed. “Let’s hope she does as she said. You go back to the lab too; I’ll hang around here for a while. The likelihood of something bad happening is slim, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“Hey, who made you a leader h—?”

Richard’s hand clamped over Tesla’s mouth as if drawn by some mythical force. Tesla tried to break free, but the older segment grabbed him by the waist, took him under his arm and, ignoring all the yells and hisses, moved down the corridor without a word. Having nodded to Mudry, Bianka and Erva followed them.

On the way back, Bianka glanced at Erva out of the corner of her eye. Despite the infirmary incident, he didn’t seem concerned. Perfect, that will make everything much easier.

When they were close to the main laboratory, she covered Erva’s mouth and pulled him into the nearest storage room. Her instincts were right, because the segment let out a terrified shriek. Fortunately, neither Richard nor Tesla heard it.

“Are you crazy?!” Erva spluttered when Bianka finally let him speak. “You scared the hell out of me!”

“Tonight,” she said.

It was only two words, but they had the effect of a horror scene on Erva.

“So soon?! But I don’t know if I’m ready!”

“You have to be ready!” she scolded him. “Dottore is asleep, and the others are busy with their own affairs. It’s the perfect moment to put our plan into action!”

The segment still looked as if he was about to collapse, shaking like a leaf. Bianka’s gaze softened. Life with Dottore had taught her to be cold, but now a different approach might prove more useful.

“Hey, I believe you can do it,” she reassured him. “You’re brave, intelligent, and above all, gentle. You’re not like the others, but that’s a good thing. Only you can make this work; the children wouldn’t listen to any other segment. We’re going to save a few lives today. Doesn’t that sound like a goal worth fighting for?”

Erva stared at her for a long moment, pondering her words. Bianka gave him the most pleading look she could muster. Finally, the segment let out a tortured sigh and hit himself on the forehead. “And Lady Arlecchino…”

“She’ll be waiting.”

“In that case, I guess I have no choice.” He sighed a second time. “All right, I’ll take care of it. Wait for us in the passage to the mortuary.”

And so she did. While the segments were in the main hall, darkness falling outside, Bianka sneaked into the shabby corridor. Fifteen minutes later, she heard quick footsteps and muffled whispers. Erva and three children appeared in the passageway: two little girls and an older, gloomy boy.

At the frown on Bianka’s face, Erva shrugged. "I’m sorry, I couldn’t convince that little one to come with me. She was too scared, so I chose someone else.”

Bianka lowered her head slightly, an expression of suffering marring her face. Her first little patient aroused her greatest sympathy. However, if she didn’t want to go, she would respect her decision.

“Don’t worry, you did a great job,” she said, forcing a smile. “Let’s go before the others realise something’s wrong.”

“Where are you taking us?" the boy asked. “That student said we’d be safe, but he didn’t give any details.”

“We’re going to your new home,” she replied.

The children looked at each other, some with surprise, others with doubt. All with a deeply hidden hope.

“We’re orphans,” the boy continued. “And fugitives, too. Who would want to take us in?”

“I know one place. A place perfect for people like you.”

“Does that mean we’ll never see that scary man again?” one of the girls muttered.

Bianka looked at her, her gaze serious. “I can’t promise you that. However, your new guardian is a strong and trustworthy person. She will train you so that if you ever come face to face with the Doctor, you will be prepared.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because this person was also my mentor. She raised me, taught me how to take care of myself and deal with all manners of adversities. And look, I’m standing in the laboratory of the one you fear so much, free and unfettered. Do I look like someone who is completely under the Doctor’s control?”

The children fell silent. After a moment, as if struck by the same thought, they nodded in agreement. Bianka proceeded without a word. After a few seconds, she heard the footsteps of the others.

In the mortuary, the fugitives stood rooted to the spot, noticing the dead body of one of the patients covered with a sheet. The youngest girl looked as if she was about to run back where she came from, but Erva quickly hurried them up.

Outside, the darkness was as impenetrable as in the deepest cave. Even the moon didn’t illuminate the night, helping in their escape. There was no wind – their tracks wouldn’t be covered. They would have to deal with this on the way back or hope for snowfall.

“Stay close together,” Bianka called over her shoulder. “Hold hands so that no one gets lost.”

Hearing whines because of the cold, she crept towards the carriage driveway. There, above the palace entrance, two lanterns were illuminating the area. Their light cast a glow on the wooden vehicles and the snow stirred by numerous boots. There was not a soul in sight.

“Was she supposed to wait for us here?” Erva whispered. Bianka nodded. “Then where is she? Did she betray us?” He grabbed his head. “Oh no, what are we going to do now?”

“Calm down, Erva, no one has betrayed us.” Bianka narrowed her eyes, scanning her surroundings. Finally, her gaze stopped. “You can come out, Father. It’s safe.”

For several long seconds, nothing happened. Erva glanced at Bianka, then at the frozen children. “Maybe we should get ba—”

“I’m glad my teachings weren’t in vain.”

Lady Arlecchino emerged from the darkness beneath one of the torches. She wasn’t wearing her harbinger’s cloak; only a black, camouflaged outfit that she donned during espionage operations.

Her gaze shifted to the children. “I trust they are the reason for our night-time meeting?”

“You are correct,” Bianka confirmed. “We have an excess of test subjects. It would be a shame to let them go to waste.”

Arlecchino hummed. “And you thought I would take them in… What made you think I would enjoy this idea?” Her voice took on a dry tone. “They are weak and emaciated; it will take a month to get them into relatively good condition. I also don’t believe they are loyal to the Fatui; not after what they went through in the Doctor’s laboratories. Speaking of the Doctor, he doesn’t know anything, does he?”

Bianka fell silent. There was no denying that her former mentor’s words carried a lot of truth. However, she couldn’t leave the children to their fate. What could she say to convince the Knave of her cause?

“You’re supposed to be our guardian?” the gloomy boy stepped forward, giving Arlecchino a sharp look. “I may not have been loyal to anyone so far, but if loyalty is the price for not having to go back to those cursed undergrounds, I’m ready to change and follow orders.”

Arlecchino narrowed her eyes, kneeling down to be at his level. “You would follow my orders? Even if you had to learn to cooperate and work as part of a team?”

“Even then,” he replied without hesitation.

“Even if, during a mission, I told you to abandon your new brothers and sisters?”

“Yes,” he replied after a short pause.

Arlecchino moved even closer, staring at him intently. “Even if you had to kill for the House of the Hearth to triumph?”

The boy’s eyes widened as he took a step back. Bianka didn’t resent him for that. Demanding such sacrifices from a child would be unthinkable in any other situation. However, among the Fatui, assassination was an everyday occurrence.

“Think carefully,” Arlecchino continued. “Life in the House of the Hearth is not easy. If you decide to join, you will be sent on missions where you may lose your life. However, I will teach you how to hide, sneak, and fight. I will be strict and unfeeling, as befits a ‘Father,’ but you will be able to rely on me.”

The boy’s gaze hardened. “Yes, even then.”

Arlecchino let out a satisfied hum. “Very well.” She stood up and turned her head towards the two girls. “And what is your decision? The conditions are the same.”

The youngest runaway looked at everyone with wide eyes. The older one lowered her head and clenched her hands into fists.

“I’ll go too,” she muttered, looking up. “I don’t want to go back to that awful place. I’ll do whatever I have to.”

With that, she stepped forward to stand beside the Knave. Everyone’s eyes focused on the last girl. Her trembling hands, chattering teeth, and violent movements left no doubt as to how she was feeling. Bianka’s face twisted in sympathy, but she said nothing. It had to be her own decision, whatever it was.

The girl squeezed her eyelids shut and nodded. “I’m coming too. I won’t stay alone!”

Without opening her eyes, she ran up to the others and snuggled up to her older friend. The latter stroked her head, whispering soothing words.

“Now that all the decisions have been made, there’s nothing left for us to do here,” Arlecchino concluded.

Bianka nodded. “Thank you for agreeing to help us. Good luck.”

She turned, ready to return to the lab. “Father” had never encouraged long and affectionate goodbyes. Brief, emotionally neutral sentences were ideal.

Bianka looked at Erva. If they don’t tarry here any longer, no one should—

“I’m not finished yet.”

If the Knave’s voice had a physical form, it would have taken the shape of a blade stuck in Bianka’s neck. The researcher stopped mid-step and turned her head back towards the lights. Arlecchino’s expression resembled a hailstorm.

“Do you realise what you’ve done today?” she asked coldly.

Bianka frowned. “I saved the lives of several children fated to die…”

“…And in doing so, you defied the Doctor, your Harbinger. You betrayed him. Do you know what punishment awaits every traitor who conspires against the crown?”

Bianka froze, cold sweat running down her neck. She knew.

“I should kill you here and now,” Arlecchino continued. “No one would dare question my decision…”

Bianka’s hand moved towards her belt, where she usually kept her dagger sheath. Damn, why hadn’t she thought to bring it with her?!

“However, it so happens,” Bianka tilted her head, sensing a change in Arlecchino’s tone, “that the Doctor and I are not fond of each other. I don’t feel obliged to inform him of his right-hand man’s antics.”

Suddenly, a smile appeared on Arlecchino’s face. It was just a slight lift of the corner of her mouth, but Bianka’s knees almost buckled with relief.

“It is dangerous to be loyal to two Harbingers, but I am glad that you have not forgotten your childhood and the lessons you learned from me. You will always be welcome at the House of the Hearth, Snezhevna. Always.”

In those few seconds, so many emotions swept through Bianka’s body that she could hardly think. So she just nodded and said a brief, “Thank you, Father.”

Arlecchino turned her attention to Erva, who was standing to the side, doing what he did best – remaining invisible. “You are a segment of Dottore, aren’t you? And yet, you also opposed him. An interesting case. Who would have thought that such a conflict lurked within the balanced Doctor? I wonder what else he will surprise me with?”

After a few seconds of silence, Lady Arlecchino nodded to them and, without a word, headed towards the palace to call the coachman who would take her and the children to the House of the Hearth. Bianka, meanwhile, grabbed Erva’s hand and drew him back to the mortuary.

****

Sitting in the warm carriage, Arlecchino watched the snowflakes falling outside the window. The gloomy boy fidgeted in the seat in front of her while the girls slept.

“Who was that woman?” he said for the first time since leaving the palace grounds. “She didn’t experiment on us. In fact, I’ve only seen her briefly so far.”

Without turning around, Arlecchino replied, "She is the future ‘king.’ Although perhaps I should say the future ‘queen.’”

"Queen? Is she a descendant of the Tsaritsa?”

She snorted. "You know so little about the world… But you will understand.” She narrowed her eyes. “From now on, you are to address the queen as ‘Her Highness.’ And since you’ve become so talkative…” She turned around, her eyes flashing in the darkness. “Tell me everything you experienced in the Doctor’s laboratory."

****

Erva left to turn off the tracking devices, while Bianka distracted the other segments so that no one would catch on to their scam. Then, she stood in the middle of the hall. What to do now? Today’s experiences were still fresh in her mind, so she wouldn’t be able to sleep. She glanced at the clock – half past nine o’clock.

‘I wonder how Dottore is doing,’ she thought. Several hours had passed since the “fight” in the infirmary. Was he still asleep? Angry with her and the segments? Had he lost all his enthusiasm and will to live? Thirsty for knowledge, she headed for the first floor of the palace.

Mudry was wandering around the hospital, examining patients who, in Bianka’s opinion, were reacting with excessive nervousness and distrust. If they could be sure they wouldn’t be kidnapped and used as test subjects, it was only with the oldest segment.

Having noticed her, Mudry raised his eyebrows. Bianka pointed to the corridor leading to the harbinger ward and tilted her head in a silent question. Mudry hesitated, then finally nodded, removing his mask and mouthing, “Be careful.” Bianka gave him a thumbs up and disappeared into the passageway.

Pantalone didn’t even look up from his book, knowing full well who had come to visit them.

“I’m not sure Dottore will want to talk to you,” he said, without looking up. “Since he woke up, he hasn’t even glanced at me. An outsider might think he’s sulking.”

Bianka looked at Dottore, or rather at his back. A few hours ago, hearing his comrade’s remark, he would’ve jumped out of bed and hissed a string of curses and insults. Now, however, he didn’t even move. Bianka’s heart ached painfully.

“I’ll try,” she muttered. “Maybe he’ll agree to talk to a trusted assistant.”

Pantalone merely shrugged.

Bianka swallowed hard and approached the patient’s bed. Dottore must have heard her, but he didn’t acknowledge it.

“Hey,” she whispered. No response. She sighed. “I’m glad you’re back among the living. I missed your ramblings and complaints.”

This time, she managed to elicit a response from Dottore – something like the humming of a machine. She leaned in to hear better. What she had initially taken for a murmur or perhaps even snoring was actually growling. She grimaced. Perhaps resorting to jokes wasn’t the best way to make peace in this situation.

“I’m sorry it had to look like this,” she continued. “Mudry gave you medicine; it should make you feel better.”

Dottore still didn’t respond, but at least he stopped growling.

“I won’t bother you any longer. Rest, it will help with your recovery. I’ll come tomorrow to check up on you. Good night.”

Bianka waited for a few seconds. Still no reaction. ‘Maybe he fell asleep,’ she thought with a sad smile. Having nodded to Pantalone, she headed for the exit.

“Are you leaving already?”

Bianka stopped, unsure if the barely audible voice was just a figment of her imagination. She glanced out of the corner of her eye at Regrator, who was giving her an equally puzzled look.

She turned around. Dottore looked at her with an emotionless gaze. Was he angry? Tired? Sad? It was impossible to tell.

“Would you like me to stay?” she replied.

The Doctor hesitated. Shooting a glance at Pantalone, he shrugged and lay back down. Bianka frowned. She knew him too well to think that her answer was meaningless to him. He needed her company, whether he wanted it or not. But how long should she stay? It was getting late; if she didn’t go and rest, she would be exhausted tomorrow, and that won’t bode well for the lab’s atmosphere. Maybe she would take a nap in the staff bedroom. Surely no one would hold it against—

She straightened up. That’s an idea!

“I’ll be right back,” she said and ran out of the room.

Dottore glanced at the door. His chest felt empty. It worried him. Where did it come from? Has it always been there, hidden? Or has it only appeared today? Or maybe it was just a side effect of the medication? No matter the cause, he wanted it to go away.

Bianka returned a few minutes later. When Dottore saw the object she was carrying, his eyes widened. “What are you doing? What is that?”

“What do you think?” she huffed. “It’s a camp bed. I’m going to sleep here tonight.”

“That’s not exactly what I meant when I asked if you were leaving…”

“Too late; I’m not carrying it back.”

Bianka lowered down the bed with a loud clang. Dottore looked at it with narrowed eyes. Pantalone stared at his book, pretending that nothing existed outside his part of the room.

“As you wish,” Dottore snorted, turning his back on her. “If your dream is to sleep on that creaky old thing, go ahead.”

Despite the dig, Bianka smiled. Grumpy comments were a good sign. Maybe he wasn’t as angry with her as she thought?

“Oh yes, I’ve been dreaming about it since I was a kid.”

Dottore just snorted.

After tidying herself up, Bianka collapsed onto the mattress with a loud yawn. Maybe she would manage to fall asleep after all. Emotions could both stimulate and exhaust, and she was beginning to approach the latter.

Having waved goodnight to Pantalone, she burrowed under the duvet.

“Good night, Dottore,” she whispered, placing her hand on his back. Dottore remained silent. She smiled. He didn’t need to use words; his body spoke for him. He didn’t pull away, but pressed against her hand as if he wanted to engrave its shape on his skin.

Seconds later, the lights went out. And the emptiness in Dottore’s chest seemed to diminish a little.

Chapter Text

“Do you have your notebooks?”

“Yes.”

“Have you packed the clothes?”

“Why would I need those rags? I’m wearing mine.”

“What about that mug you liked so much? Are you taking it with you?”

“Of course! It’s hidden at the bottom.”

Bianka sighed. “In that case, everything is ready. I officially declare that you have recovered and can return to the laboratory.”

‘Finally!’ she added in her mind.

Dottore laughed like a man who had taken his first breath of fresh air after years in prison.

“Ah, what a wonderful feeling it is to be able to leave this musty little room.” He glanced at Pantalone out of the corner of his eye. “To return to my own chambers, where my only company is my shadow.”

Pantalone narrowed his own and stretched. “Ah, what a wonderful feeling it is to have the whole room to myself. No snoring, whining, coughing, or munching during meals. And I get it all for free!”

Dottore’s satisfied expression soured. “How wonderful it is to be able to return to work in the laboratory,” he continued, giving Regrator a hostile look. "Where I am the undisputed ruler and have everything under control.”

"What a wonderful feeling it is to be able to stay here, where I am not attacked by hordes of idiotic businessmen, admirers don’t follow me like shadows, and servants don’t breathe down my neck. Here, where maintaining power over the entire economy of Snezhnaya becomes a real pleasure.”

Dottore gritted his teeth. “However, an even more wonderful feeling is—”

“The most wonderful feeling is relief from listening to your constant bickering!” Bianka snapped. "Aren’t you tired of arguing yet, Dottore? Lord Pantalone is leaving in a week; you won’t have time to miss each other. And even if you do, you can visit him anytime.”

“Visit Pantalone?!” Dottore shuddered. “I beg you, don’t tell me about such terrifying visions! Let’s get out of here before the nurses get upset and strap us to beds.”

It was the first thing Dottore had said that day that Bianka fully agreed with. The past few weeks had been some of the hardest of her life. If Dottore ever got sick again, she would go on a well-deserved holiday.

Fortunately, the Doctor bore no grudge after the legendary incident. The day after, he exchanged a few words with Bianka, and then the next, they talked as if nothing had happened. Perhaps his good mood was due to the healing properties of the antibiotic, which quickly drove the cough, fever, and exhaustion out of his body.

Dottore grabbed his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and, waving at Pantalone, marched out of the room with youthful vigour. Bianka followed him, not able to contain a smile – the Harbinger’s positive energy was extremely contagious.

“Finally, I can get back to experimenting,” he rejoiced, rubbing his hands together. "I’ve had to deny myself this pleasure for so long. For the last few decades, I haven’t had a single day off from the lab, and now I’ve had to endure several weeks!”

Bianka chuckled. "The lab is waiting for you with open doors. The segments will show you what stage each experiment is at.”

Dottore’s smile was swept away by a grimace of anger. “Segments? I can already see how well they did. A snail could outdo them in planning research, let alone implementing them.” He growled under his breath. "And they stabbed me in the butt against my will. The audacity!”

Bianka bit her lip. Perhaps a spark of anger still smouldered in the Doctor’s chest, waiting for the tinder that would turn it into a blazing flame.

Dottore’s entrance into the laboratory was like that of a dragon. He stood at the top of the metal steps, sweeping the main hall with an imperious glance. Next to his imposing figure, Bianka felt like a dwarf.

Richard, who was busy moving crates of metal parts, looked in their direction. “Hello, master, how are…” His words withered like a dying wind when he noticed the Doctor’s expression.

“Richard, call the others,” Dottore said, his tone peremptory. "Everyone is to report to the hall.”

“Why should I call them?” he asked with a hint of uncertainty. “You could also contact them, and I’m sure they’d listen to you rather than—”

“Do it!”

The Doctor’s stubbornness left no room for negotiation. Richard swallowed, his eyes misting over. Slowly, the remaining four segments responded to the call. Mudry strolled out of his office, Erva poked his head out from behind the door leading to the operating theatre, and Tesla and Fripon came from the wall with the Ruin Machines.

“What’s going on?” Tesla snapped at Richard. “Why did you call us?”

Wordlessly, Richard pointed at the Doctor’s towering figure. Everyone fell silent, staring at him with concern. Dottore didn’t say a word, a mocking mask still covering his gaze.

“Tesla, wash yourself; with all that grease, you look like you just crawled out of a robot’s womb,” he began. "Mudry, when was the last time you ironed your apron? Fifty years ago? Put yourself together and prepare the patients’ reports. Fripon, either you let go of that slime balloon and swap it for a mop, or you’ll be hanging next to the machines for the next month. Erva, why are the shelves in the vestibule empty? By tomorrow, they should be bending under the weight of utensils, reagents and clean notebooks. Richard, do you think the test subjects will volunteer for our experiments themselves? A new rebel base has been discovered west of the palace; you will leave this afternoon and bring back fresh blood.”

“What else?!” Tesla growled. "Maybe we should prepare a five-star meal, brew some Sumerian coffee, and give you a back massage?”

"I wouldn’t mind any of those things. Since the suggestion came from you, you’ll take care of it.”

“WHAT?! I’m not going to serve you like some lowly fledgli—"

“You will do as I say,” Dottore snapped, descending the stairs. “Your pitiful little show is over. I’m taking charge, and you’ll follow orders. Now go take a shower and wash that filth off you.”

Tesla clenched his teeth so hard they almost broke. A bloodthirsty spark flashed in his eyes. He snapped his fingers. Strange weapons immediately appeared on either side of his head, the same ones Dottore had used in Siniy Glaz. Bianka’s eyes widened. She ran towards the two men, wanting to warn them, shield them, push them aside, do anything to stop the bloodshed.

However, Dottore didn’t need help. When the tip of the deadly weapon flashed with an icy light, he casually slapped it with the back of his hand. The projectile fired, hitting the wall. Before Tesla could recover, Dottore grabbed his head. A second later, the segment’s eyes rolled back, and he fell unconscious to the floor.

Everyone stood motionless, watching the poor segment with silent horror. Dottore glanced around at the assembled crowd. “What are you staring at like deer in headlights? You all know what to do. Move, work awaits!”

The segments immediately rushed to perform their assigned tasks. Even Fripon emptied his pockets of extra “bullets” and sprinted towards the broom nook. Bianka watched the scene, enchanted. Her gaze rested on Dottore – on his proud figure, serious face, mask like a crown, and Harbinger’s cloak, differing from royal robes only in colour. The rightful ruler had returned to his domain.

“I have no complaints about you, Bianka.” She shuddered, snapped out of her trance. The Doctor was smiling at her. “On the contrary, I appreciate your commitment, loyalty, and resourcefulness.” He placed his hand on her head. “We’ll manage without your help today. Rest. Go for a walk, exercise in the arena, read, just forget about work for several hours.”

A blush warmed Bianka’s cheeks. She looked down, embarrassed. “Forget about work? Never in my life would I have expected to hear such words from you.” She looked at him with one eye. “Are you sure you’ve completely recovered?”

“I’ve never felt better.” A broad smile returned to his face. He looked down. "If you’ll excuse me, I have to take care of this ‘gentleman.’ A few days of deactivation will do him good.

“Won’t that impair him?”

“If it impaired him, he’d be crippled by now. If my memory serves me right, this will be the twenty-second time.” He snorted. “Sometimes he needs to be reminded who the real Second Harbinger is around here.”

With that, he grabbed Tesla by the collar of his coat and pulled him towards the other part of the laboratory. Bianka followed them with her eyes. Finally, she smiled. There was one issue she could, and indeed should, take care of. The lab’s regulars were not the only inhabitants of the palace, no?

****

Life in the laboratory returned to normal.

Under the watchful eye of the Doctor, the segments worked, taking both smaller and larger steps towards their ultimate goal – the creation of a god. Richard’s expedition proved fruitful – five healthy, deeply sleeping prisoners were examined, chipped, and placed in appropriate cells. Dottore hadn’t yet decided which experiment to use them in, but they could be sure he wouldn’t forget about them. Thanks to Erva’s work, there was no shortage of medicines and tools, Fripon was exceptionally helpful, and Mudry took care of the test subjects’ health. Without Tesla’s maniacal laughter, the tedious research became a relaxing activity. Bianka was always at hand, ready to serve with her knowledge, dexterity, and experience.

Yet, Bianka… She had been causing Dottore some concern lately. It wasn’t that she slacked off or got in the way of others. In terms of her work ethic, he still had no complaints, nor had he heard any worrying comments from the segments. No, the problem stemmed from a completely different source. After Dottore’s return, Bianka began to suddenly disappear. She didn’t run away during working hours or avoid her duties, no. It was just that… when the clock struck four, Bianka would pack up and vanish before anyone had a chance to stop her.

Of course, there was nothing wrong with that; she had every right to rest and have time for herself. However, this behaviour was unlike her. She had never shied away from extra work before, sometimes even offering help without expecting anything more than recognition and words of gratitude. This made the agitation and impatience she showed when the clock approached the desired hour all the stranger.

Dottore frowned. Should he ask her about it? Or should he let her live her own life? Was it possible that she had gotten into trouble and was trying to get out of it without anyone’s help? No, that was unlikely. He knew Bianka well enough to recognise her fear and anxiety if someone or something was actually threatening her. Her excitement suggested something pleasant and anticipated. Dottore relaxed. If Bianka wasn’t in danger, he had nothing to worry about. As long as she was dutiful and reliable, he would not pry into her private affairs.

However, it happened to be after working hours, and he needed to consult with Bianka about one of the patients. She probably wouldn’t mind if he visited her in her room. Dottore took the necessary documents and left the lab.

After climbing several steps at a time, he found himself in a short corridor. He stopped there. The walls were decorated with landscapes depicting winter scenes – distant mountains, dogs pulling sleds, a frozen lake surrounded by forest, and the heart of an ancient primeval forest. Exotic plants were arranged between the paintings – courtesy of Columbina, most likely.

He snorted with amusement. Bianka had taken full control of this area, and the decorations were meant to remind everyone who wandered into this remote corner of the palace of that fact. Dottore, however, had nothing to worry about. Having passed another set of “markers,” he opened the door without knocking.

“Bianka, I have a question,” he said, glancing at his papers. "Did the test subject from room four have his—?”

Dottore didn’t know what had come over him, deciding to barge into Bianka’s room just like that. He had just made up his mind that he wouldn’t interfere in her private life. He could’ve at least knocked! At least then he would have been spared the sight that shook him to the core.

Because Bianka was not alone in the room.

His deputy was giggling with a strange man, sitting on her bed. He was about her age, had dark skin like Dottore himself, and a gentle gaze. His very presence so close to the Second Harbinger’s complex was surprising, but what really shocked Dottore was their attitude towards each other. The stranger was leaning towards Bianka and whispering something in her ear, making her laugh.

Their hands joined in a tender act.

Dottore froze. Something inside him began to awaken. Skin as black as coal, venomous green eyes, and teeth as strong as diamonds. The monster howled with wild fury, focusing its attention on the stranger. It squeezed the Doctor’s heart, boiled his blood, and roared once more, bursting out in the form of an angry grimace and a deep growl.

“Bianka…” Dottore hissed, trying to control the monster inside him. "Who is this man?”

The two… acquaintances finally noticed him. Their eyes widened. The stranger stared at him particularly intently. Dottore went rigid. The mask! He wasn’t wearing a mask! He quickly turned his face away, covering it with his hand. Unfortunately, he had nothing to hide his scars with.

“Dottore?” Bianka said, voice higher than normal. “What are you doing here? I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Who is this man, Bianka?” he demanded, glaring at the stranger.

Bianka glanced at the man paralysed with fear, then looked back at the Doctor. “This is Eymen, my friend.” ‘Friend?’ The monster in Dottore’s chest roared. “We worked together at the Main Research Institute. He was there when you were looking for an assistant. Don’t you remember?”

“I didn’t give him permission to dwell on my property. He must leave immediately!”

Bianka recoiled as if he had hit her. “But why? I invited him to my room; I didn’t show him any experiments or other sensitive data. And anyway, Eymen is one of your subordinates. He could become your assistant himself if only you—"

“Enough,” Dottore shouted, straightening up to his full height. “You!” He pointed at Eymen. “Get out of here and don’t show up near the complex until I say so. And if you mention my face to anyone, you’ll become the next guinea pig in my experiments.”

Eymen’s face turned grey, while Bianka gritted her teeth in fury.

“Stop talking to my friend like that! As long as I’m here, not a hair on his head will be—"

Eymen put his hand on her shoulder. Bianka turned, noticing his forced smile.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” he reassured her. “I’ll be going now. Thank you for inviting me.”

Bianka opened her mouth as if to protest, but finally nodded. “Take care of yourself. We’ll see each other soon.”

Dottore clenched his hand into a fist. There would be no meeting soon; he would make sure of that!

Eymen nodded and headed for the exit. Passing Dottore, he bowed, muttered a quiet, “Sorry,” and disappeared into the corridor. The door closed behind him with a soft click.

The Doctor exhaled loudly, revealing his face. His gaze wandered towards Bianka. She was glaring at him with genuine hatred.

“Are you pleased with yourself?” she hissed. “You walk into my apartment uninvited and chase away my guest. Is this how Her Majesty’s Harbinger behaves?”

“This man trespassed on my territory without my knowledge!” he retorted. “It’s obvious that—"

“He didn’t ‘trespass,’ I invited him!” she shouted. “He was with me the whole time, so you don’t have to worry about any of your big secrets coming out. And one more thing: we were in my apartment with my permission, so the only one who trespassed here was you.”

"Oh yeah? Then let me remind you of something: the apartment is still in my complex. You didn’t buy or receive it. I graciously decided to let you use it during your stay at the palace, which means that all these rooms are still mine.”

Bianka fell silent, boring her eyes into him. Dottore returned her gaze with equal defiance. He raised his eyebrows, however, when he noticed that her eyes were becoming increasingly glassy. When tears streamed down her cheeks, there was no trace of the Doctor’s anger.

“Is that how you see it?” Bianka sobbed. “Fine, then I won’t spoil your chambers with my presence, my lord. I’m leaving, and you can stay here if you want. After all, I can’t ask you to leave, as nothing here is truly mine. I don’t even have the right to my friends anymore!”

Having pushed him away with helpless fury, she ran out of the room, wiping away her tears.

Dottore stared at the door. The push wasn’t strong, but he had to take at most two steps back to keep his balance. He had experienced much stronger blows more than once, whether on the battlefield or in his own laboratory.

So why did it hurt so much?

This time, the monster howled pitifully, and the scab that had begun to cover the unpleasant void was mercilessly torn open again. Dottore grabbed his shirt at the chest and crumpled it in his hand. He didn’t understand this feeling. Why did Bianka have such a strong effect on him? When did it happen? When did she go from being a mere subordinate to something more? When did she start to remind him of…?

In his mind’s eye, he saw another girl. She also smiled a lot, listened to him, looked at him with something other than anxiety and disgust. And her cheeks were also wet with tears when he betrayed her. That’s when the void…

Dottore shook his head. He couldn’t think about it. He didn’t want to think about it! He had to escape, do something, forget about it!

Clenching his teeth, he ran out of the room, rushing down the stairs into the dark abyss. His eyes closed, but they quickly opened again. Sadness, anger, a face covered with tears. A feeling of betrayal. He shook his head. May they disappear forever!

His instinct led him to the laboratory. There, in the vestibule, lay his mask. He put it on his face, relief instantly washing over his shaken mind. At least for a moment, he would be cut off from the cruel world. He would go and do some work; that should help too. He took a few steps, but then stopped. What if Bianka had the same idea? He wasn’t ready for another encounter. So, he turned around and went back out into the corridor.

Dottore let his legs guide him. He didn’t think about a specific direction; he just wanted to wander and wander. Maybe the further he went, the further away he would be from his nasty thoughts. Tears, pain, betrayal. Tears, pain, betrayal. Would he ever be free of this curse?

He reached the second floor, where several harbingers had their apartments. Finally, he stood in front of an elegant black door. Quiet voices were coming from behind it. Having pressed the golden handle, he invited himself inside. At least there, he would find nothing that could surprise him.

Pantalone was talking to a stranger—another businessman, judging by the documents and contracts lying on the desk in front of him. Dottore approached, stopping right next to the delinquent. Both Pantalone and the other man fell silent.

“Dottore, didn’t I tell you to kno—"

The Doctor grabbed the businessman by the collar and lifted him up like an unruly kitten. While the man screamed, writhing helplessly in the air, Dottore carried him towards the open door and left him in the corridor. Then, kicking the door with his boot, he returned to Pantalone and took the vacant seat.

Regrator stared at Dottore, expecting a torrent of words, perhaps some gesture. But Dottore remained silent, sitting motionless with his head lowered. The mask made it impossible to tell where he was looking.

Pantalone frowned. “If you’ve already decided to interrupt a promising meeting, you could at least say—"

Dottore slammed his fists down on the (fortune-worth!) desk and let out a deafening roar.

The next few minutes resembled a cabaret performance: Pantalone tried to get his companion to explain his behaviour, at the same time protecting the numerous knick-knacks and souvenirs from the destructive power of Dottore. The Doctor, meanwhile, was thrashing around the room in a frenzy, growling and muttering something about Bianka and some “Eymen.” Finally, the banker managed to persuade Dottore to sit down on a nearby sofa.

“Bianka… That intruder… Tears… On my territory…” the Doctor muttered.

Pantalone pressed a glass of clear liquid into his hand. “Drink.”

Dottore looked at the glass, then back at Pantalone. “What is it?”

“Wine. Drink up, relax.”

The Doctor sighed, but took a large gulp of the drink. Suddenly, his eyes bulged. He put down the glass, choking and coughing.

“You call that wine?” he croaked. “That’s vodka, not wine! Fire-Water!”

“It works just the same, and at least I’ll have someone to palm it off on.” He chuckled. “You don’t think my taste buds could handle that acid, do you?”

“Damn you, banker!”

“When you’ve calmed down, perhaps you can tell me in words that human beings can understand what happened, for Archons’ sake, that has made you so angry?”

Dottore snorted and waved his hand. "Bianka happened, that’s what.”

"Ah, so nothing new. That’s good, I was beginning to think we were dealing with a matter of national importance. In that case, tell me what she did to cause your dissatisfaction again.”

Having rolled his eyes, Dottore described the situation he had witnessed and his conversation with Bianka. The longer he spoke, the wider Pantalone’s smile grew. This didn’t escape his attention, making him frown.

“What are you grinning about?” Dottore grumbled. “I’m telling you about my problem, confiding in you, and you’re laughing?!”

“Oh, Dottore, I just think you’re being a bit dramatic. Your problem is something that most people experience. You’re just jealous.”

Dottore almost spat out the vodka he was swallowing. “Jealous?! You must be out of your mind! What am I supposed to be jealous of?”

“The fact that Bianka is seeing another man.”

“She’s not seeing any man! She said herself that this Eymen,” he pronounced the name with disgust, “is an old friend of hers. A twist of fate brought them both to the palace at the same time.”

“Do you think that ‘twist of fate’ will end there?” Pantalone inquired. “With a few friendly meetings? Tell me, how many male-female couples do you know who have remained friends?”

Dottore hummed. It would be a little embarrassing to admit that he didn’t know any couples, whether male-female, non-standard, friends, or lovers. Pantalone, however, seemed to take his silence as a sufficient answer.

“I thought so. If nothing changes, their relationship will continue to develop, and you will continue to suffer from jealousy.”

“I’m not jealous!” Dottore hissed through clenched teeth. “I’ve never been jealous of anything in my life.”

"Yes, that’s obvious.” Pantalone’s voice couldn’t be more dispassionate. "It’s obvious from the fact that you’re not even able to recognise, let alone accept, this feeling.”

“I didn’t come here for psychological advice,” he snapped. "Better tell me what to do about it.”

“About what?”

‘This whole situation! Some stranger is hitting on Bianka—!”

“He’s not a stranger; he’s her friend.”

“…and Bianka herself began to hate me. Our relationship cannot be like this; it would completely disrupt the work in the laboratory.”

Regrator hummed, putting his finger to his lips. “I don’t know, maybe you could start with something trivial. Are you familiar with the concept of ‘apologies’?”

The grimace on the Doctor’s face deepened. He folded his arms and turned away. “I’m not going to apologise.”

Pantalone pressed his lips into a thin line – a reaction extremely rare for him.

“In that case, “ he continued, “go back to your place and meditate on the storm that has broken out in your head. Maybe you need more time to think it over.” He grabbed Dottore’s mask and held it out to him. “You won’t hear any more advice from me today. Unless you pay the right price.”

The Doctor snorted, taking the mask from Pantalone’s hands. “Over my dead body; I won’t pay for a few measly words. Drinking your disgusting vodka should be payment enough.”

Pantalone’s only response was to wave goodbye. Dottore sighed and left the room. In the corridor, he was greeted by the frightened face of the businessman.

Dottore bared his teeth. “Were you eavesdropping?”

The man shook his head vigorously. “I wouldn’t dare, my lord! I was just—"

"Never mind.” Dottore interrupted him with a wave of his hand. “You can go back to your papers, contracts, and conspiracies. I’m done with this deceitful bastard.”

Without wasting another second on the businessman, the Doctor headed for his own rooms. However, with each step, his earlier worries returned with double force. It was impossible that the monster who had protested so vehemently at the sight of the two friends was the personification of jealousy. Jealousy implied strong intimacy, and strong intimacy implied the forming…

Dottore couldn’t help but let out a short, unpleasant laugh. The word refused to crystallise in his mind, let alone leave his lips. No, he definitely didn’t feel that towards his assistant. It was just that her help with the experiments had proven invaluable. He didn’t want to lose her to some silly infatuation with an old friend. If he could be sure of Bianka’s loyalty, who cared if her relationship with Eymen continued to develop? Heck, maybe she was with him right now. Maybe she had even met him right after their unfortunate argumen—

Dottore froze in his tracks. What if Bianka really had run to Eymen as soon as she disappeared from his sight? The monster inside him began to dangerously peek out from its hiding place, flashing its venomous eyes. The Doctor growled. He wasn’t going to pay attention to this strange, growling creature. He wasn’t jealous, period!

After some thought, however, he decided that the vision of meeting Bianka didn’t seem as repulsive to him as it had before. Having made up his mind, he turned on his heel and strode briskly towards the lab. He would check if she was there. Not because he was jealous, no! He just had to make sure she hadn’t forgotten her duties.

He was just worried. Nothing more.

****

"He’s just impossible! First, he kicks you out, then me, claiming that my room is actually his, and then he watches me for days as if I were some kind of dangerous monster!”

“I understand, that’s unpleasant—"

“And that’s not all! He called his subordinates to help him!” She was careful not to mention the segments. At least she intended to show some class. “They keep finding extra tasks for me, extending my training sessions, and keeping me in the lab after hours. Dottore is an eccentric person, but I didn’t suspect he would be so paranoid!”

“I’m sorry to hear that…”

“Do you know how hard it was for me to get to our meeting?! I had to turn two assistants against each other so they would let me out of their sight for a moment! What has it come to that I can’t even move freely around the palace anymore?”

Bianka sighed loudly, clutching her head. Eymen looked at her with concern. He lowered his head and stared at the cup of tea warming his hands. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault that the Doctor started restricting your freedom. If I hadn’t gone to your rooms that day…”

Bianka snapped her eyes open and gave him a sharp look. "Don’t you dare think that, Eymen. You didn’t invite yourself into my quarters; I invited you. The only one who can feel guilty is Dottore. He knew very well that he was entering my private space; he should have been aware that I’m a normal person who needs the company of someone more than a gruff scholar and his minions.”

After her words, silence fell. Bianka’s absent gaze rested on the worn floor, while concern lingered on Eymen’s face. The man cleared his throat.

“Has it ever crossed your mind to ask for a transfer?” he asked.

Bianka frowned. ‘Transfer? What do you mean?”

"Under the command of another harbinger. I know you have a high position now, which certainly comes with widespread respect and additional benefits, but maybe it’s worth trading that for peace of mind. You said Lady Columbina has a special fondness for you. Or Lord Pantalone. If you think about it, you’re not doomed to serve the Doctor.”

Bianka blinked slowly. Sometimes the seed of this thought would sprout in her mind, but it never took root. Since Dottore had personally chosen her as his assistant, she believed that this was her destiny. But was that really the case? Bianka had once been one of Lady Arlecchino’s subordinates, but she had chosen the path of a researcher, and thus a different harbinger. However, if she had insisted, it was possible that “Father” would have taken her back. The Damselette or Regrator wouldn’t have sent her back to where she came from either.

But could she really leave the laboratory and its regulars with a light heart? It had been so many months since she first set foot in the great hall of the palace. Since then, Dottore and the segments had accompanied her every day. Experiments, training, secrets, even shared meals… It was all an important part of her life. It would be really difficult to turn her back on all that one day and start a completely new chapter.

Besides… Dottore was such a distrustful creature. How long had it taken for him to allow her to help with his research and supervise the work of others? It took him even longer to warm up to casual chit-chat, jokes, touch. She thought of the gentle smiles he gave her, his calm, deep voice that could soothe her frayed nerves. How he pressed his back against her hand when he was ill.

She sighed, closing her eyes. Many people might think that Dottore was devoid of all feelings; that he was more like a ruthless machine than a human being. But Bianka knew that wasn’t true. Beneath the metal shell was a beating heart – sensitive, fragile, delicate. A heart that was so easy to break.

“I don’t think I’ll take that opportunity,” she replied. “Dottore isn’t such a cruel master. It’s just… Let’s say that a man who is a true genius in one field can be a complete idiot in another.”

Eymen nodded slowly. She hadn’t convinced him; she could see that clearly, but he accepted her decision. She smiled. A friend like that was a real treasure.

“All right, enough complaining and moping.” She clapped her hands. "We didn’t gather here to lament the injustice of the world. On the contrary, it’s time to celebrate!”

Eymen’s grimace immediately gave way to a broad smile. “You’re absolutely right!” With that, he stood up and spread his arms in an encouraging gesture. “Happy birthday, Bianka!”

Bianka laughed, throwing herself into Eymen’s arms. He locked her in a tight hug. Winter was the harshest season of the year, but for Bianka it was a truly joyful time.

“May your mind be as swift as a falcon, your strength equal to that of a sabrelion, and joy fill every step of your life.”

“Eymen, poetic as always,” she giggled. “‘Happy birthday’ was perfectly sufficient.”

“How could I dare to downplay this great day?” Eymen finally released Bianka. “Actually, I have one more surprise for you.”

Eymen disappeared into the kitchen next door, returning a moment later with a small package. The gift was wrapped in red paper and secured with a pink bow.

Bianka gasped. “Oh, you didn’t have to…”

“But I wanted to,” he replied. “It’s my pleasure to bring you some joy. Here, it’s yours.”

Smiling warmly, Bianka accepted the gift and sat down on the bed. Eymen plopped down next to her, watching as she unwrapped the package. Underneath the paper was a small but elegant wooden box. On its lid lay a golden key. Bianka inserted it into the lock and turned. Then, she opened the lid, and there…

A wonderful, sweet smell hit her nostrils. She buzzed with delight as she looked inside. “Cookies? Are they the same ones…?”

“Exactly the same as from Tatiana’s recipe,” Eymen confirmed. “I admit, I had to give the first batch to the palace hounds; the dough wasn’t quite done. These ones, however, should be perfect.”

Bianka sent him a grateful look. The cookies were a beautiful golden colour and came in various shapes, from stars to hearts and clovers. Each one was topped with a Snezhnayan berry. “Do you also have…?”

Eymen grinned, pulling a jar of powdered sugar from behind him.

Bianka laughed. “I knew I could always count on you!”

Having opened the lid, Bianka sprinkled some powdered sugar on one of the cookies. As usual, “some” turned into a mountain of white powder that almost completely covered the highlight of the show. Eymen snorted. Bianka looked at him with feigned resentment and nudged him in the side.

“It won’t ruin them,” she defended herself. “They’ll just be sweeter.”

“Oh yes, your teeth will definitely be happy too,” he teased.

Another nudge knocked the wind out of Eymen. Bianka grabbed a cookie with a generous amount of sugar and put it in her mouth. The pastry crumbled, releasing the sweet taste of milk and flour. The sugar immediately covered her tongue with a thick layer. Fortunately, the tart taste of the berries was refreshing, blending perfectly with the rest of the ingredients.

Bianka sighed. “Memories come flooding back…”

“Then tell me about them,” Eymen suggested. “I’d love to reminisce about the old days myself.”

“Good idea. But before we do that, I also have a little surprise.”

Eymen raised his eyebrows. “Really? What is it?”

Bianka smiled as she approached the bag she had brought with her. When she took out a long bottle, her friend’s eyes widened.

“Dandelion wine?” he asked. “Where did you get it?” Then, he gasped in understanding. “Is this the same bottle you got from Wilhelm? I didn’t think it would last this long!”

Bianka grinned. “It was waiting for a special occasion. In my opinion, it’s perfect for birthday cookies.”

Some might argue with that statement, but not Eymen. He nodded eagerly and brought two fresh mugs from the kitchen. “Pour!”

Bianka’s birthdays were never lavish but always filled with joy. What could be more beautiful than spending the day with her best friend, sharing laughter, tasty snacks, and good wine? If only this moment could last forever!

However, the more the cookies disappeared and the wine dwindled, the closer they got to the moment of farewell. Bianka still had to work on a few poisons.

So, when the time came, she reluctantly got up and thanked her friend for such a pleasant meeting. Eymen smiled. Bianka looked at him with sudden tenderness. His smile was so sincere, his gaze so gentle. When he hugged her, she felt as if nothing and no one could hurt her. He still smelled of cookies. Bianka buried her face in his neck and breathed in the familiar scent, while Eymen began to gently stroke her back.

They stayed like that longer than they intended. Finally, Bianka gently slipped out of his embrace and looked at his familiar face one last time.

Eymen, her friend.

“Thank you again,” she murmured. “I hope we’ll have many opportunities to meet and chat.”

Eymen smiled, giving her an affectionate look. “Of course, you’re always welcome here.”

Having left the room, Bianka headed back to the laboratory. Warmth filled her chest, and a slight smile danced on her face. However, the closer she got to the Second Harbinger’s complex, the more her smile faded, replaced by a stern look, her steps becoming faster and more confident. Today was a joyful day, so why should she be the only one to celebrate?

The main hall was surprisingly quiet – tools lay lifeless on the tables, machines stood in an eerie silence, even the lights seemed to be dimmed. There was not a soul in sight. The situation was strange and surprising, as the hall was usually bustling with life. However, Dottore informed Bianka that the laboratory would be less crowded for a while, as there was also work to be done outside the palace: Tesla, who had returned to the world of the living the day before, had been sent to Haeresys to help Ayaz with a promising experiment, Richard was busy breaking up criminal gangs, and Mudry had to travel south, where an epidemic of an exceptionally virulent flu had broken out. Only Fripon, who was too young to leave the palace, and Erva remained behind.

Bianka was fine with that. No one would interfere with her saving another prisoner.

This time, she didn’t need Erva’s help for anything more than switching off the transmitter. The patient was already in a deep sleep. With so many segments missing, getting her out of the palace would be a piece of cake.

The awakening went smoothly. Bianka handed the woman a bag with the most necessary items and guided her outside, showing her where to hide. No matter how many times Bianka had seen it, the absolute joy and gratitude of the prisoners always moved her.

It was dusk outside, though not yet completely dark. Bianka was not concerned – the chance of her plot being discovered was slim. She explained once more to the woman where she was to go, making sure that she had fully regained consciousness.

The patient was overjoyed.

“Thank you, Spark, thank you!” she repeated with tears in her eyes. “I will never forget what you have done for—"

Her gaze fell on something behind Bianka. When her smile disappeared, replaced by an expression of horror, Bianka froze – she had made a mistake somewhere along the way. She turned around.

When Lord Dottore was angry, he could strike fear into the heart of any person, ally, or enemy. Who could have suspected, though, that standing motionless in his mask and harbinger’s cloak, lips pressed into a thin line, he would inspire even greater terror?

The cogs in Bianka’s head halted. It was impossible! They couldn’t have been discovered! However, no matter how many times Bianka shook her head or blinked her eyes, the grim image of the Doctor refused to disappear. When she fully understood that what she was seeing was real, her body jolted to life – the heart began to pound as if it wanted to jump out of her chest, her pupils dilated, her hands trembled, and the neurons in her brain began to send information at double speed.

Dottore started approaching them with deliberate steps. A cry of despair escaped from the prisoner’s throat. Bianka looked at her, then at her master. Despite her training, she had no chance in a direct confrontation. They had to run, hide, disappear from the face of the planet!

Bianka turned around, ready to save her skin, when her mind was filled with reproachful words, spoken what seemed like eons ago.

You act like an animal, fleeing from deserved punishment...

Bianka stopped. The patient gave her a terrified look, as if to ask why she was standing still, why they weren’t doing anything. Bianka glanced behind her. The Doctor was already halfway between them and the mortuary.

…instead of taking the blows of the whip proudly and with your head held high.

Bianka’s gaze hardened. She turned her eyes to the patient, whose cheeks were wet with tears. “Go where I told you and wait for the morning carts.”

The woman’s eyes widened. “But what about—"

“Go.”

The patient hesitated, but sensing Bianka’s determination, she ran away. Dottore’s head followed the receding figure. His steps changed direction. Bianka whistled briefly, drawing his attention back to her.

Let me tell you something. If you already decide to break the rules, break them firmly and explicitly.

The Doctor stopped, waiting for her next move. Bianka stood still. The wind ruffled her hair, whipping up clouds of snow. The first dancing lights of the aurora borealis appeared overhead. Absolute silence all around. If it weren’t for the situation they found themselves in, it would have been a truly beautiful and peaceful night. Maybe she could go out to look at the stars or even take a short walk.

That wasn’t possible now. Bianka took two deep breaths, calming her mind and heart, and then, slowly moved towards the harbinger.

And if someone catches you doing so…

Dottore didn’t move. He remained in the same position, his lips pressed tightly together. His immutability resembled an unshakeable mountain rather than a river, constantly changing its form, like his mind and ideas.

…don’t cower like a mouse under a broomstick…

Bianka held her head high. Even when she stopped within arm’s reach of the Doctor. Even when she felt the cold fingers of death dancing down her spine.

…but look your tormentor square in the eye, without losing faith in yourself and your own convictions.

She would not cower in the shadows like a victim. She would not regret what she had done. She would not run away, even if she had to pay the ultimate price. Her lie was beautiful and filled with light. If the dark day wanted to stifle it, she would make sure to leave a radiant mark.

Dottore didn’t speak. Usually, his face was so expressive that it wasn’t difficult to read his thoughts and feelings. Now, however, they were obscured by a thick fog. Only his stiff posture and pressed lips remained.

Bianka watched him for a moment, her gaze equally impenetrable. Finally, she took a deep breath and said, "Dottore, just as I cannot purge your darkness, you cannot extinguish my light. I don’t regret my decisions, and I know that, if faced with the same choice again, I would not change it. I acted without your knowledge, against your will and afoul of our organisation as a whole. I will accept any punishment you deem appropriate.”

Her words managed to elicit a reaction: Dottore flinched, his mouth opening slightly. Her attitude must have surprised him. He quickly returned, however, to his previous unshakeable posture. One more step and he towered over her like a titan. He leaned forward, his mask almost touching hers, and reached out. His hand rested on Bianka’s exposed neck. The researcher swallowed, and the Doctor began to press.

So, an execution. Bianka suspected that this could be the end of her betrayal. She lowered her gaze. To die on her own birthday… What a melancholic vision. A joyful celebration turned into a day of mourning. Bianka did not resist. She preferred to die with dignity rather than struggle or beg for her life.

So, she waited.

And waited.

And waited...

She furrowed her eyebrows. Something was wrong. Although several seconds had passed, the pressure wasn’t increasing; she still felt only slight discomfort. Suddenly, Dottore’s hand began to tremble, as if he were making a tremendous effort. Hesitating, Bianka raised her head.

The Doctor’s expression changed dramatically. The thin line of his lips was nowhere to be seen. This time, they revealed sharp teeth clenched in a furious grimace. His face was wrinkled and covered in sweat. Bianka could feel his increasingly heavy breathing on her face. He was trembling all over, as if some mythical force was tearing him apart from within. Despite all these terrifying signs of fury, his hand still rested on Bianka’s neck, doing her no harm.

Dottore roared, almost giving Bianka a heart attack. The hand disappeared, replaced by an icy wind. Screaming, growling, and grumbling, the Doctor began to thrash about like a wild animal. He waved his arms, shook his head, kicked the snow, and broke a dozen branches from a nearby bush. Bianka watched, rooted to the spot. He had so much strength, so much anger… If he wanted to, he could kill her in a second. But as she watched him release a tsunami of emotion and tension, she somehow knew that she was no longer in danger.

Finally, Dottore’s rage came to an end. The man stopped, panting heavily. He snapped his head towards Bianka, standing in front of her again. The power of his aura robbed her of all courage. She cowered.

“You will not die today,” were his first words. Bianka was afraid to move. “But don’t think that what you did will be forgotten. You won’t escape punishment.”

With that, he grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the mortuary. His gaze wandered, stopping at the invisible path where the patient had disappeared. Bianka’s heart stopped. Fortunately, Dottore only shook his head and focused on entering the basement. Bianka breathed a sigh of relief. At least one person will be safe today.

“Thank you for sparing my life,” she stammered, “I wouldn’t want to die on my birthday.”

“Silence!” he hissed, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t want to hear a word from you until I tell you to speak.”

Although she didn’t resist, the Doctor continued to drag Bianka along with a grim expression. The best she could do was to move closer to him so that the pulling would not cause her pain. She was grateful, though, that she had been spared real torture.

Finally, Dottore kicked open the double doors leading to the hall and pushed Bianka inside. She took a few steps to regain her balance, then immediately turned to face the Doctor, not letting him out of her sight. Something moved at the edge of her field of vision. She glanced in that direction. The segments were sitting hunched over one of the tables. Not only Fripon and Erva, but also the other, supposedly absent three.

“Hey, how did you get—?”

Dottore, stripped of both coats but still wearing his mask, turned her away from the working segments and, with his hand on her back, guided her deeper into the hall. Having grabbed a free stool on the way, he placed it in the corner and sat Bianka on it. Then, he brought another chair and sat down so close to her that she had no chance of escape.

“Now you will talk,” he ordered. “You will tell me when you came up with the brilliant idea of releasing the test subjects, and everything related to it. What you say will determine your future… and whether you’ll have one at all.”

Bianka stared at him, too paralysed to speak. She turned her head towards the segments, seeking help or at least comfort, but they were arguing over something lying on the table. Before she had a chance to discern it, Dottore firmly but gently grabbed her chin and turned her back towards him.

Seeing no other way out of the situation, Bianka sighed and began to talk – about her feelings after the death of the old prisoner, the idea that began to germinate in her head shortly afterwards, and her subsequent attempts to save the test subjects from deadly experiments. At first, she stuttered and paused, unsure of how to proceed with the story, but with each sentence, she sounded more and more matter-of-fact and assertive. Dottore was not indifferent either – his angry grimace began to change, revealing thoughtfulness and even curiosity. He asked his own questions from time to time, almost turning the interrogation into a lively discussion.

Finally, Bianka’s voice broke – she had reached the moment of Splinter’s death. The guilt that had faded into oblivion over the past few weeks returned with a vengeance. Despite the lump slowly growing in her throat, she found the strength to recount the failed attempt at liberation. During this part of the story, Dottore remained unnaturally silent. Perhaps he also sensed her pain, deciding to show a rare display of mercy.

“Dottore…” Bianka paused, taking a deep breath. The Doctor tilted his head. “Is Splinter’s death really my fault? If I hadn’t given her the drug, would she still be alive?”

Dottore was silent for a few seconds. “Perhaps. Or maybe this woman was more sensitive to the side effects of anaesthetics than other people. If there hadn’t been two foreign substances in her body, her chances of survival would have been greater… but not certain. Now we’ll never know. I advise you not to dwell on it either; it won’t do any good. Continue with your report.”

Despite their dryness, his words managed to bring Bianka some comfort. Following the instruction, she recounted the subsequent attempts that had ended in success: from the powerful Kaem, through the three children, to today’s patient.

After listening to her until the end, Dottore fell silent, lost in his own thoughts. Finally, he sighed. ‘Tell me, Bianka, what am I to do with you? You contributed to the escape of six test subjects by concealing your actions from me. In other circumstances, I would congratulate you on your cleverness and resourcefulness, but your behaviour is pure treason. On the other hand, neutralising someone as bright as you would be foolish…”

Dottore got up from his stool and began pacing around the hall. The segments were still arguing.

“Yes, Erva, I see that screw!” Tesla growled. “I don’t like it when others think I’m an idiot!”

“It would happen less often if you didn’t act like an idiot eighty percent of the time,” Richard grumbled.

Fripon snorted with a nasty laugh, while Mudry shook his head.

Tesla turned towards Richard. “Watch it, thug! You may have biceps the size of tree trunks, but everyone knows who would win in a real—!”

Dottore stopped. “Despite all your explanations, one thing in your story doesn’t add up.” Bianka sat up straight on her stool, a sudden chill attacking her body. “You could have pretended that the prisoners you rescued were dead. You could have supplied them with food and money and given them their freedom… but what about the tracking devices? To prevent anyone from finding out about the escape, they would have had to be turned off, but I didn’t give you access to the tablets.” He turned to face her. “Can you explain this to me?”

Bianka went rigid. She wanted so badly to explain it to him, but she couldn’t. She had promised Erva that she would take full responsibility and ensure his safety. What could she say to dispel Dottore’s suspicions?

Unfortunately, her silence lasted too long. Dottore’s face darkened, returning to its previous expression of quiet fury. A shiver shook Bianka’s body like lightning.

“Someone helped you,” he said curtly.

Bianka’s wide eyes were confirmation enough. A growl began to form in the man’s throat. His gaze wandered towards the segments. They must have sensed something through the bond that connected them, as they all turned their heads at the same moment.

“All five of you, come, now!” he yelled.

Richard looked at Tesla, Tesla at Fripon, Fripon at Mudry, and Mudry closed his eyes and sighed heavily. Erva’s face turned greyish. Hesitantly, they stood before the enraged Doctor.

“What again?” Tesla complained. “Isn’t it enough that—?"

His words turned into a scream when Dottore stood in front of him and began to stare at his face with an unmoving gaze. The segment grabbed his head and fell to his knees. It lasted a few seconds. Finally, Dottore turned his head away. Tesla fell to the ground, writhing like a chronically ill man, attacked by new waves of pain.

“I hate this,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “Damned tyrant!”

The Doctor moved from one segment to another, repeating the previous scene. Each of them showed varying degrees of discomfort. Mudry seemed to be the bravest, his face contorting into a small grimace. It was only when Dottore lost interest that he staggered, breathing heavily. Poor Fripon tried to escape, but quickly found himself in the Doctor’s clutches.

Finally, it was Erva’s turn. The segment stood paralysed, staring wide-eyed at its creator. He didn’t try to escape. Perhaps he knew that he couldn’t avoid punishment anyway. A second after Dottore focused his gaze on him, he began to cry. No screaming, no begging for mercy, just tears flowing in two narrow streams down his cheeks.

Dottore was insensitive to Erva’s pain. When he was done, he flashed his teeth. “You! You helped her! Who would have thought that quiet, perpetually frightened Erva would find the courage to betray his own creator? You two!” He turned to Richard and Tesla. “Take him to the workshop. He is to wait for me there.”

The segments approached Erva, who stood with his head bowed. Richard patted him on the shoulder, whispering soothing words. The boy didn’t try to fight. The three of them headed through the double doors into a room unknown to Bianka.

Only when the doors stopped moving did she awaken from her stupor. She started up to run after the segments, but Dottore put his arm around her waist, thwarting her plans.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he said, blocking her view of the door with his body. “Erva will tell me everything you could have hidden from me. Let’s go to your workroom. I want to see how you created the anaesthetic.”

Bianka shot one last look behind Dottore, where her partner had disappeared. She couldn’t help him now. With a quiet sigh, she led the Doctor to the smaller lab. Dottore wrote down the entire process in his notebook before they both returned to the main hall. In the meantime, Richard and Tesla had also completed their task.

“Have you immobilised Erva?” Dottore asked. “He won’t escape?”

“No, master,” Richard replied. “He’s waiting politely on the table.”

Bianka stood rooted to the spot. “What do you mean, waiting on the table?” She looked at everyone in turn. She hated not knowing what was going on. “He won’t be harmed, will he?”

“You’d better worry about yourself,” Dottore growled. “I said you wouldn’t die, and I’ll keep my promise, but you won’t escape punishment. Here is your sentence: You contributed to the escape of six test subjects. Now you have to work it off. For the next six days, you will not leave the laboratory. You will assist anyone who requests it, in any type of work, whether you like it or not. During this time, you will sleep only four hours a day and consume one large meal at noon. Your access to the various rooms of the complex will be restricted.”

Bianka swallowed. Dottore had found a way to undermine her physical health without causing her direct suffering and pain. She wasn’t going to complain. She would show him that she had changed since their stay in Siniy Glaz.

“As you wish, Dottore,” she relented, bowing her head.

“That’s not all.”

Oh no! Would her determination and strong will allow her to endure another punishment?

“You have shown that you do not deserve complete trust. From today, you are forbidden from going down to the basements, either alone or with someone else. My decision is final. Your punishment begins tomorrow.”

While Bianka was digesting his words, Dottore turned and headed for the workshop, where Erva was waiting for his own “execution.” Maybe she should run after him? Try to stop him? She tensed her muscles, but at that moment she felt a hand on her shoulder, holding her in place.

“It’s pointless.” Mudry. “Master is angry. If he doesn’t vent his fury, we’ll all pay for it.”

Bianka gave him a murderous look. “And Erva is supposed to be the victim?!”

“If there were another option, I would gladly take it. Have faith, Bianka. Erva is a brave and strong man. Besides, it’s a segment; no harm will come to him.”

Bianka snorted, staring back at the door. If Dottore does anything to Erva…

“I’ll take care of him,” he reassured her. “Master wants to comb through his memories, learn every detail of the plan he can get, and then deactivate him for a while, like Tesla before. I swear I won’t let him suffer any permanent damage.”

Bianka hummed, reluctantly accepting the deal. She couldn’t ask for more. Mudry was already doing so much for her.

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

Mudry smiled. “You’d better go back to your room. A tough week awaits you. You need to be strong and well-rested if you’re going to cope with the punishment.”

Bianka agreed with Mudry’s words. After saying goodbye, she left the lab, which was to become her prison for the next six days, and headed for her own apartment.

Inside, she sighed and, throwing her bag and apron on the floor, collapsed onto the bed, her face pressed against the mattress. The realisation of how close she had come to death had not yet fully sunk in. Perhaps tomorrow, after a night’s rest, she would understand how lucky she was that Dottore had decided to spare her life. And perhaps after a few more days, she would have the strength to reflect on the meaning of this gesture from the usually ruthless harbinger.

But now she should wash and force herself to fall asleep. With effort, Bianka turned onto her back and sat up. Only then did she notice the shiny object standing on the dresser. Frowning, she moved closer and examined the strange find.

It was a bird. Shiny, delicate, made of tiny plates, gears, and wires. Two zircons sparkled in place of its eyes. Despite its small size, no detail of its appearance had been overlooked, making it resemble a living creature.

A winding key protruded from the bird’s back. Bianka turned it a few times. Suddenly, the bird came to life. It moved its golden legs, lifted its graceful wings, and opened a triangular beak, letting out a joyful chirp. When it began to take step by step, a small piece of paper fell out from under its wing with the words “Happy Birthday!” and a slightly crooked smile.

Bianka stared at it, speechless. Could it be them…? But in such a short time? She only told Dottore when they were returning to the palace! They couldn’t have known earlier… And so soon after they found out about the betrayal? Maybe it was a gift from someone else. But she had seen them working on something at the table. Besides, who else would have drawn such a crooked smile?

When the bird stopped moving, Bianka picked up the delicate structure and carefully carried it to her office, where she kept a collection of her most precious items. Such a beautiful gift had to have a place of honour. She placed it on her desk so she could look at it while she worked.

Bianka didn’t release the bird right away. She was too surprised, as there was a second piece of paper in the middle of the desk. When did they have time to bring all these surprises here? Leaning over, she read the single sentence:

“I wasn’t angry with You. I was angry with myself.”

Chapter Text

“Bianka, are you there?”

The effort required to open her eyelids was downright titanic. Bianka looked around. To say that her gaze was absent would be a gross understatement. What was this place? What time was it? And why was it so dark?

“Biankaaa!” the voice repeated.

Bianka blinked, almost falling back asleep. “Eghle…”

That was all she could muster up. Any sentence more resembling human speech would cost her too much energy.

“Ah, so you’re awake, excellent!”

A laser-sharp light attacked Bianka’s eyes, hurting worse than a knife stuck in her back. She let out another sound, this time full of violent disapproval. Fortunately, the murderous glare was obscured by a tall shadow. Only by the voice could she tell that who was standing before her was the man who had condemned her to this torture.

“I have a special task for you,” Dottore said.

Bianka groaned. Her reaction to the words, “I have a task for you” was the same as if he was saying, “I’m going to whip you unconscious.” On the other hand, the prospect of losing consciousness, even if only from pain, seemed much sweeter than extra work. She tried to protest, but only more gibberish came out of her mouth. Dottore didn’t respond. Her eyelids began to droop again. The only sounds in the room were their quiet breathing and the gentle rustling of clothes. Wonderful, maybe he’ll let her close her eyes for a few more—

A nasty, gut-wrenching smell reached her nostrils. Bianka jumped out of bed, choking and rubbing her battered nose.

“What—” She coughed and shook her head. “What was that?”

Dottore smiled, shaking a vial full of brown powder. “Sobering salts.” His voice carried so much nonchalance, as if it were something one held in one’s purse every day. Maybe he did. „I thought they might help you wake up. My hypothesis was correct. Not that I ever doubted it.”

Bianka’s gaze said more than any words could. Dottore grunted. „Now that you’re at least able to focus your gaze on me, we can get down to business.” The Doctor headed for the door, but stopped when he saw that Bianka hadn’t moved. „Oh, come on, don’t look at me like that. Today is the last day of your punishment. Just a few more hours and you’ll be able to rest.”

A few hours! Dottore probably didn’t realise what “a few hours” meant in her current state. Five days ago, Bianka arrived at the laboratory rested, full of energy and determined to humbly serve her punishment. Now her fortitude was crying somewhere in the corner. The first day wasn’t so hard. She had a lot of work to do – Dottore must have had some arrangement with the segments, because they demanded her help much more often than usual – but her energy reserves allowed her to endure the ordeal. The lunch was substantial and nutritious, so the hunger didn’t bother her throughout the afternoon.

It was only late in the evening, when successive waves of yawning disturbed her concentration and her eyes began to stick together, that her warm bed materialised in her mind. However, she made it to the end of the day, and the wonderful softness of the mattress in the work bedroom was a great reward for her endurance and determination. She couldn’t remember the last time she had slept so well…

…until she was cruelly awakened four hours later. Was this some kind of bad joke? What are four hours of sleep? You don’t even have time to drift off into dreams before they make you get up and go to work. But what could she do? That was the deal – four hours of sleep a day. So, she dragged herself out of bed, rubbing her stinging eyes.

From that moment on, things got worse and worse. Fatigue, and then exhaustion, accompanied her every step of the way. Her aching, rumbling stomach made it difficult to concentrate. Hunger became more bearable when she secretly devoured the grain kept in the workroom for Kurage. She couldn’t avoid feeling guilty, but luckily, Kurage seemed to understand the seriousness of her situation and lay quietly in his little house.

Dottore was insensitive to Bianka’s growing exhaustion. Whenever he could, he requested (or demanded would be a better word) her help in the atrium, with the Ruin Machines, or in the infirmary. In general, he tried to keep an eye on her as much as possible. On the third day, having found her asleep at the table in her workroom, he chased her around the laboratory until evening, not allowing her to rest for more than three minutes.

Perhaps Dottore wanted to show her how hard life was for people sentenced to hard labour? Apparently, eternal hunger, exhaustion and abuse were constant features of life in the northern labour camps for Snezhnaya’s worst criminals. Well… as a traitor, Bianka probably counted among them.

Amidst her numerous duties, Bianka tried to find out something about Erva’s condition. She feared that Dottore might have mistreated him worse than Mudry had assumed. What if he had been permanently damaged? If he couldn’t walk when he woke up, or forgot who he was? And it would all be her fault! In that case, could Dottore decide to deactivate Erva forever? That option was out of the question!

Finally, after much pleading, persuasion and complaining, Mudry agreed to take her to the room where her friend was being held. The segment led her to a double door, passed the operating theatre and continued down the corridor. Having reached the lift, they descended even further, to the deepest depths of the palace. There was only one short stone corridor there, with an armoured door at the end.

Suddenly, a small device emerged from the wall. Was it a camera? The device approached them and then flashed a short, strong light.

“What was that?” Bianka asked, rubbing her eyes. The device emitted a short “beep” and hid back into the wall. “Are we in trouble?”

“Quite the contrary,” Mudry reassured. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “To be frank, I don’t think you could get into any more trouble than you already are anyway.”

If Bianka had more energy, she would certainly come up with a sharp retort, but in her current state, she could only manage a sulky grimace.

Mudry smiled. “This device checks the identity of people trying to get further. If we didn’t have the authorisation, the alarm would go off and the lift doors would lock. Fortunately, we’re safe.” He hesitated. “Although, maybe you shouldn’t come here alone. Because of your betrayal, Master may have revoked your access here.”

Bianka twisted her face. Mudry could have spared her the reminder of why she was in her current situation. She didn’t have time to dwell on it, however, as the segment was already opening the thick metal doors. She quickly joined him, and they both stepped inside.

A human silhouette on the workbench. That was the first thing she saw, even before Mudry turned on the lights.

The glow of the yellow lamps illuminated the central part of the room.

And Bianka’s legs buckled beneath her.

She didn’t fully understand what complete deactivation meant. Was there a button on each segment that could simply turn them off? It seemed too trivial and dangerous. In that case, perhaps Dottore deactivated the segments using his mental bond?

Now she knew. It was way worse than that. All she could see was her friend, lying on the table in pieces.

Legs, arms, shoulders, head, even fingers… Each part had been carefully separated from the torso. The individual parts of the body were still connected by cables hidden inside, as well as muscles and tendons, from which a clear, bluish fluid dripped – the equivalent of blood. A huge hole was yawning in Erva’s abdomen and chest. The wires, metal plates, bones and organs glistening in the bright light filled Bianka with horror and disgust.

Torn by strong emotions, she rushed towards him. She grabbed a lonely hand, a leg, a finger… She had to put him back together somehow! But how? Thanks to her anatomy lessons, she had no problem with the correct positioning of limbs or organs, but what about the mechanical elements? Should she somehow roll up those cables? Connect those two plates together? Or maybe they didn’t fit together at all? Perhaps the Doctor’s notes were somewhere in this—

Someone grabbed her firmly by the shoulder and pulled her away from the table.

“Hey, stop touching him!” Tesla. “If you move anything, you’ll ruin all the work and waste the time I’ve spent here. How did you even get in here?!”

“I brought her,” Mudry joined in. “She insisted on seeing Erva.”

“And you let her?!” Tesla growled. “Do you always have to give in to her whims? At this rate, people will start wondering which one of you is the Harbinger and which one is the assistant.”

„Are you suggesting that your will is stronger? Well, you definitely showed more determination when she asked you to help her buy parts for the machines.”

It was true that Bianka had turned to Tesla for advice. Chemistry and biology had always been closer to her heart than engineering, so when Dottore instructed her to buy gears, vacuum tubes and dies, she could only shrug, helpless. Fortunately, Tesla didn’t have a stronger will than Mudry, so she managed to complete the task without any major problems.

“Stop arguing!” she shouted, a hint of hysteria in her voice. “Erva is in terrible condition; we have to help him!”

“Excuse me!” Tesla turned to her, his gaze reproachful. „I can be called many things, but I know my way around machines. He may not be in the best of health right now, but I guarantee I’m taking care of him as best I can. Just a few more modifications and he’ll be as good as new.”

„What…? But Erva…”

“Your concern is understandable, but unfounded.” Mudry’s voice cut through the fog of terror. “Erva’s current condition, although appearing to be serious, is in fact completely normal.”

Bianka looked at the segment’s mangled body – the stretched muscles, deathly white ligaments, shiny metal and blue arteries full of life-giving fluid. They called this normal?!

“Don’t forget that we are more machines than organic beings,” he continued. “And machines, like any device, wear out over time. In order to keep their full capabilities, they must be maintained. Full deactivation is the ideal time to do so.”

Bianka took a closer look at her friend’s body. Indeed, slightly rusty screws lay around Erva’s fingers and limbs, while new and shiny ones protruded from his joints, ready to be reconnected. The main plate that was part of the torso had been unscrewed and set aside, exposing an interior full of twisted cables and ancient energy lines. Some of the cables had been untangled and secured with tape. The sensitive human organs were gently moved aside with hooks to reveal the spine made of black, supernaturally strong metal. Additionally, they were covered with a thin foil-like material to prevent dehydration.

“What about the loss of that blue fluid that nourishes your tissues?” she asked. “Won’t Erva bleed to death in such a… loose state?”

“You don’t have to worry about that either. Do you see that device over there?” Mudry pointed to a rectangular machine with numerous tubes coming out of it. Each tube was connected to a different part of Erva’s body. “During maintenance, it will supply Erva’s cells with oxygen and essential nutrients.”

Bianka hummed. With such care, her friend was probably in no danger. However, she preferred to talk to Dottore. Maybe she could convince him to—

“I’m glad it’s not me lying on that table.”

Bianka’s gaze wandered downwards. Fripon raised his shaggy head and looked at her with his big, sparkling eyes. His broad smile was a sign of pure happiness.

“Fripon, how did you get here?” she shouted in surprise. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. “Don’t look there! It’s not a sight for a child!”

Fripon tilted his head in confusion, then, as if a light bulb had gone off in his head, he burst out laughing. Bianka’s cheeks suddenly became much warmer. She was probably exaggerating a bit. Fripon was a copy of Dottore; he had certainly seen worse things than a dismembered body more than once.

Tesla walked towards the table, armed with a screwdriver and pliers. This picked Fripon’s attention, who joined him to observe (or perhaps hinder) his work. Only then did Bianka notice the board behind them. The names of the segments were written on it, with numbers next to them. The values varied significantly, from zero next to Mudry and “Six” to twenty-seven next to Tesla’s and Fripon’s names.

“What do these numbers mean?” she asked, curious.

Mudry approached her. “They indicate how many times a specific segment has been forcibly deactivated.” Seeing her incredulous look, he cleared his throat. “It’s just our little game.”

“In which Erva is no longer winning!” Fripon shouted, pointing to the large number one next to the offender’s name. “Although I think that number is far too small. For such a serious offence, he should get at least five!”

“Let’s not exaggerate,” Mudry replied. “Following that line of reasoning, there should be a fifty next to your name.”

“The hypocrite has spoken!” Tesla scoffed. “Do you know what’s that zero next to your name for? It indicates how important is your opinion on this matter.”

„How rude of you. Does the fact that I’m winning hurts your pride? Maybe next time you’ll think twice before stepping on Master’s—”

Bianka listened to the increasingly heated argument, her eyes wide. They must have been really bored to come up with such a “game.” Even Mudry… Who would have thought?!

Mudry must have seen the distaste on her face, because he cleared his throat in the middle of the argument, trying to hide his embarrassment. “I think that’s enough visiting for today. Come, Bianka, we’ll see if Master needs any help.”

From then on, Bianka urged Tesla on at every opportunity (much to his displeasure), and when the segment finished its work on Erva, she pestered Dottore to bring him back to life. Now, having dragged herself out of her soft, warm bed, she had no intention of giving up.

“Yes, I know you want me to wake Erva, you’ve said it many times.” At her surprised gasp, Dottore snorted with laughter. “What, you think I can’t see that determined, fierce look on your face? I admit, your persistence is admirable.”

The Doctor left the room, motioning with his finger for Bianka to follow him. She snorted, slowly following her tormentor.

“Here’s what we’ll do,” he continued, heading towards the main hall. “If you behave yourself today and follow orders, tomorrow you’ll find Erva conscious and fully functional. What do you say?”

Bianka almost scoffed again. “Behaving” was something a little girl might do at her great-grandmother’s hundredth birthday party, not the right-hand woman of the highly influential Second Harbinger.

Dottore, however, paid no attention to her growing frustration. He grinned, almost mockingly. “I’m glad you—”

“Master!”

They both turned their heads. Richard was trotting towards them. His face was serious.

“What’s going on?” Dottore asked.

Richard didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned over and whispered in his ear. Suddenly, the Doctor’s eyebrows shot up. He looked at Richard as if to make sure he had heard correctly.

“It turns out I have an even more interesting task for you,” he said to Bianka. At the sight of his smile, a shiver ran through her body. “Wait here for a moment. When we’re ready, I’ll call you.”

They both rushed out, leaving Bianka alone in the spacious hall. Sighing, she sat down on a free stool and rested her elbows on the table. Her eyelids felt heavy, as if lead weights had been attached to them, and her eyes watered, distorting her vision. She must have dozed off for a few minutes, because the next thing she remembered was shouting, cursing and the sounds of a scuffle. She sat up straight as Dottore and Richard returned to the hall, holding a struggling man between them. She tried to get a look at the stranger, but all she could see was an angry grimace and a long gash above his eye before Richard’s powerful frame blocked her view. Without a word, the three of them disappeared behind the double doors, and the hall fell silent once more.

Bianka listened to the fading footsteps. Who was this furious man? Some exceptionally brave soldier brought in for enhancement? If so, his behaviour wasn’t surprising – at the very thought of the chaotic procedure, she felt like feigning acute gastritis. Should she follow them after all? Dottore said he had a special task for her, and she had a strong feeling it would be related to this man.

Having made her decision, she followed the Doctor’s trail. Which room could they be in? If they really were planning an enhancement, the Spider room should be her first stop. If they weren’t there, maybe she could try—

A loud smack followed by a nightmarish roar made her legs freeze to the spot. After a few seconds of anxious waiting, the sounds repeated. They were coming from the operating theatre. Bianka stood still, unable to move. Were Dottore and Richard doing what she thought they were doing? She had witnessed the Doctor’s cold nature and cruelty more than once, but she had never seen him openly…

The howl sounded again, this time filled with unbelievable suffering. Bianka took a step back. Tactical retreat may be better in this situation. Then, her back hit something hard. Before she could turn around, someone gripped her arm so hard she let out an involuntary yell.

“Come on, Bianka, it’s not time yet.” To her surprise, her saviour turned out to be Tesla. He was eyeing the door to the ward, suspicious. “Dottore will call you when he needs you.”

The segment led her back to the hall and down a side corridor to Mudry’s office. The owner himself and Fripon were already waiting there. Seeing Bianka’s shaken expression, Mudry poured hot coffee from a siphon into a clean cup and pressed it into her hands.

“Have a drink and try to relax,” he said, urging her to sit down on the couch. Too dazed to protest, she obeyed.

“What—“ Bianka cleared her throat. “What’s happening there?”

Fripon tried to say something, but Tesla quickly covered his mouth. She frowned. Since when did Tesla care about her well-being and mental health? He was usually the first (‘Maybe the second actually,’ she changed her mind. ‘Right after Fripon.’) to scare or upset her. His behaviour was unrecognisable.

Mudry grimaced and scratched his head. “It would be best if Master explained the situation. He should tell you about the role you will play in this performance too.”

“It’f reall’ intereftin’,” Fripon mumbled through Tesla’s hand.

Half an hour of nervous shuffling, slurping and heavy sighing later, the masked Dottore joined them in the office. Unlike the other segments’ expressions, his face wore a satisfied smile.

“Bianka, I invite you to the operating theatre,” he said too cheerfully for her liking. “An exciting job awaits you! Perfect for ending your punishment. I promise you’ll be free afterwards.”

Bianka narrowed her eyes. The prospect of unlimited food and long hours of sleep was tempting, but she felt no relief. Dottore was far too jittery for anything good to be waiting for her in the operating ward. He nodded his head, encouraging her to hurry up. Sighing quietly, Bianka put the empty cup on the desk, took one last uncertain look at serious Mudry and disgusted Tesla, and followed the Doctor.

The closer they got to the ward, the bigger her anxiety was. The exhaustion that had been her constant companion for the last few days was nowhere to be seen. By the Seven Archons, maybe she should run away before it was too late? But where to? No, unfortunately, there was no turning back, for they were already standing in front of the door, and Dottore was letting her into a place where only a terrible nightmare could await her. Bianka pressed her lips into a thin line, breathed in through her nose, and crossed the threshold.

The light in the room was glaringly bright, the smell of iodine and blood hanging in the air. Richard was washing his hands, the water disappearing down the drain pink with blood. He looked gloomy and absent-minded, completely unlike his usual self. Bianka had her suspicions, however, as to what might have put good old Richard in such a foul mood. She shifted her gaze to the centre of the room.

The sad figure of a man sitting in a surgical chair caught her attention. His swollen, blood-soaked face, dishevelled hair, bruised arms and torn clothes presented a picture of pain, suffering and hopelessness. The battered man was breathing heavily, his body shaking with convulsions. Above the man was a menacing-looking machine. It consisted of metal arms ending in various medical instruments, from scalpels to speculums.

After staring for a moment, Bianka looked away. She wasn’t ready for such a cruel sight. She hoped she never would be.

Dottore didn’t seem to have the same problem. Straight as a bow’s string, he approached the man with a grim expression. “Be so kind as to explain to our dear Bianka the circumstances, which led you to your current situation. I’m sure she would like to hear why the peace of this place has been disturbed in such a direct manner.”

The man coughed several times, spitting pink saliva on the floor. “I’ve already said everything! I’m not going to bow down to scoundrels like you!”

A loud smack shook Bianka to the core. The prisoner roared when Dottore’s hand collided with his cheek.

The Doctor rested his hands on the armrests and leaned over the man. “I’ve tried to be polite so far, but if you don’t learn quickly to show me the respect I deserve, my patience will run out faster than lightning.” He leaned in even closer. “Now move that useless muscle you have in your mouth and tell me how you have repaid Fatui for giving you home, education, and a purpose in life.”

Despite the chilling words, the prisoner didn’t lower his head. If the hatred that emanated from his gaze had been a fraction greater, it would have taken on a physical form. Bianka didn’t know this man, but she certainly couldn’t accuse him of timidity or weak will – few would have the courage to face a demon and not cower in fear.

“It was me who poisoned the Ninth Harbinger,” he hissed. “That’s all that bastard deserves for what he does to simple, honest people. I will regret that my plan failed for the rest of my life.”

Dottore bared his sharp teeth, neither in anger nor amusement. Bianka stood motionless by the door.

“Don’t worry, your life may not last that long. Tell us, when did you decide to put your plan into action? Or did someone else tell you to take the first step?”

The man clenched his fists, but, chained to the chair, he could do nothing but glare at his tormentor. „When Regrator decided to visit you in Siniy Glaz, as his messenger, I arrived first to announce him. I used the rest of the time to perform reconnaissance, and while you were busy hunting that big cat, I sneaked into the laboratory and stole a vial of poison. Adding it to some drink or food was no big deal.”

“All that sounds pretty, but there’s a flaw in your story.” Dottore tilted his head. “My laboratory cannot be entered just like that; the security measures would not allow it. And yet you came into possession of the vial. How?”

The man narrowed his swollen eyes and bared his teeth. “You don’t think I’m going to tell you all my secrets, do you? Even you can’t be that stupid.”

Another blow tore a piercing scream from the prisoner’s throat.

“Did anyone help you?” Dottore’s voice was as cold as ice.

The man took a few breaths and shook his head. “I acted alone.”

“Who ordered you to do this? Who do you work for?”

The man looked up. This time, his gaze was cold and determined. “I said I acted alone.”

They stared at each other for a moment longer, but finally Dottore relented. Having nodded to Richard, he straightened up and walked over to Bianka. “Do you understand what we’re dealing with here?”

Bianka glanced out of the corner of her eye at the prisoner, who had lowered his head. Richard, wearing an apron that was bursting at the seams over his broad shoulders, approached him with a syringe. For the first time in her life, the sight of a needle didn’t draw any reaction from her.

“What do you mean?” she muttered. “He admitted it himself; he wanted to kill Lord Pantalone.”

Dottore shook his head. “I don’t think this man told us the whole truth. There are traitors among the ranks of the Fatui, but they rarely target one of the Harbingers. Acting alone, they wouldn’t have the power to pose a real threat to us.”

Bianka frowned. “So, you’re suggesting that…”

“He certainly wasn’t the sole rebel. And I even suspect who might have commissioned him for this mission.”

“The Hidden Dagger?”

“Precisely.” Despite the seriousness of the situation, Dottore sounded pleased. Pleased with her and her quick thinking. „The Daggers have been giving us trouble for a long time, and their attacks are becoming more and more daring. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were behind the attempt on Pantalone’s life. That’s not the only problem we have on our hands however. The laboratory in Siniy Glaz, although not as well guarded as the palace one, also has its own security measures. No one should be able to enter it without my permission. The fact that our traitor got hold of the poison created in your workroom leads us to another, less than optimistic conclusion.”

Bianka gasped. She looked at the Doctor, seeking confirmation. He nodded.

„You’re right. Someone from Siniy Glaz’s staff has also changed sides. Fortunately, few of them have free access to the lab. It shouldn’t be too difficult to identify the traitor. Today, I will send a letter to Rodion – I am confident of his loyalty – with explanations and a plan for further action.”

Bianka grimaced as a sharp pain shot through her chest. She knew most of the people who called Siniy Glaz their home. They were kind, helpful people. She couldn’t imagine any of them wishing for the Fatui’s demise.

The warmth and gentle pressure on her head snapped her out of her reverie. Dottore looked at her with an encouraging smile, ruffling her hair. “Don’t worry, we won’t be defeated so easily. I am the Second Harbinger, and you are my right hand. Next to us, these rebels are small fry.”

Bianka couldn’t help but laugh. Dottore’s confidence was virtually indestructible. Did he ever feel even a shadow of self-doubt?

A sudden clang drew their attention to the prisoner. The man began to struggle, cutting his wrists until they bled. Richard stood nearby with an empty syringe in his hand.

“What are you planning to do with me?!” he yelled. “I told you what you wanted to know!”

“And what, did you think you could get away with trying to kill one of the Harbingers?” Dottore sneered. “Your idiotic behaviour has shown that your ability to think for yourself doesn’t serve you well. And since you are incapable of making logical decisions, we will gladly do it for you.”

The prisoner looked at him in disbelief. He opened his mouth, perhaps to continue arguing, but no sound came out. Slowly, his head slumped, and after a moment, he fell into an ethereal sleep.

Dottore turned his gaze to Richard. “Bathe this moron and prepare him for surgery. I don’t care what happens to him, but I wouldn’t want him to kick the bucket right after the operation; that would reflect badly on us. You can take Mudry to help you. In the meantime, I’ll let Bianka in on the rest of the plan.”

Richard nodded. Having freed the sleeping man from his restraints, he moved him to a nearby bed without the slightest effort and, pushing it in front of him, headed for the exit.

Passing Bianka, he put his hand on her shoulder. “Be strong,” he whispered in her ear. She turned, ready to ask for an explanation, but he was already disappearing through the door.

She didn’t need to look back to know that Dottore was standing right behind her.

„Let me explain what I have in mind for our unexpected guest.”

The Doctor’s hand rested on her back, guiding her towards another machine standing in the corner of the room. It was actually a block of matt metal with a recess for a chair in the middle. The seat faced a large screen and two levers.

Shivers shook Bianka’s body. She instinctively jerked away, trying to increase the distance between her and the contraption. Dottore gasped. “Calm down, Bianka, no one’s going to torture you.”

Bianka glanced at him out of the corner of her eye but allowed him to lead her closer.

When they stopped in front of the disturbing device, Dottore took off his mask and placed it on the control panel. Patting the contraption, he looked at Bianka with a smile. His level of satisfaction was suspiciously high that day.

“As you heard, this man intended to murder one of us,” he began. “And not just anyone, but the Ninth Harbinger. I don’t need to remind you what the punishment for treason is, do I?” He looked at her meaningfully. „However, you know that I don’t like to waste healthy individuals senselessly; it would be much better to make use of them. Of course, I could chip him, throw him in a cell and use in some experiment… but I would prefer Pantalone to have a greater share in his fate. The traitor wanted to kill him, so the best punishment would be to force him to serve Pantalone for the rest of his life. However, I don’t think our prisoner would be thrilled with that prospect. I would like to minimise any attempts at fighting and rebellion, and this machine will help us do just that.”

Bianka glanced at the Doctor, then at the device behind him. She snorted with laughter. “What, you want to take away his ability to think? Implant some programme in his brain that would make him come at Lord Pantalone’s every call?”

Dottore didn’t answer. Why wasn’t he saying anything? And why was his smile so wide?

Bianka’s eyebrows shot up. “Don’t tell me that’s exactly what you had in mind?!”

“Great minds think alike,” he teased. “That’s exactly what I was thinking about, and I would like you to play the leading role in this. Using the robot and following my instructions, you will perform your first operation.”

Bianka’s heart nearly did a somersault. She, an ordinary chemist who, by a strange coincidence, had found herself under the Doctor’s wing, was to operate on a human brain?!

“But you said you wouldn’t torture me!” she exclaimed.

Dottore chuckled. “Please, you should feel honoured by this opportunity.”

“But I have no theoretical or practical knowledge!”

“You know human anatomy; that’s enough.”

“You’ll see, this man will die at the first incision.”

“It won’t be a great loss.”

Dottore was unyielding. What’s more, with each word Bianka uttered, he seemed to become even more cheerful. It was almost as if they were teasing each other, not having a serious conversation in which a stranger’s life was at stake.

Bianka shook her head. “I’m sorry, Dottore, but I can’t agree to that. I’m sure you can handle this task on your own. In the meantime, I’ll make sure that other research moves forward.”

“No can do, darling, I’ve already made my decision.” The Doctor took a step towards her. “You have a steady hand and a cool head when you’re backed into a corner. You’ll do better than us, you’ll see.”

The affectionate pet name from Dottore’s lips was a good distraction, but Bianka didn’t fail to notice the steadily shrinking distance between them. The Doctor seemed to read her mind, know what she was up to, and decided to take preventive measures in advance. Bianka sighed. She couldn’t avoid it, could she?

“Wait, I see one big problem,” she said matter-of-factly. Dottore stopped. She took a deep breath. “Have you considered the possibility that—”

Bianka spun on her heel and ran away. They wouldn’t take her alive! The exit was so close; she would be safe there.

Unfortunately, she was still functioning on only four hours of sleep and one meal eaten several hours ago, while Dottore was bursting with energy. Without hesitating for a second, he shot towards her as if pure caffeine was flowing through his veins. When she grabbed the door handle, he downright crashed into her.

Bianka reacted on instinct. She wriggled like an eel and tripped Dottore, causing him to hit the wall and fall flat on the floor. He would certainly have been hellishly proud of such a nice manoeuvre if his attention had not been preoccupied by the pain that exploded in his forearm. Bianka jumped over the groaning harbinger, reaching for the exit. Dottore, however, grabbed her leg and pulled her back towards him. Unfortunately, he didn’t anticipate that this move would surprise her and throw her off balance. By the time he realised his mistake, it was too late – Bianka fell straight on top of him, pinning his face to the ground.

Dottore began to choke. It was a mistake worthy of a novice, not the Second Harbinger! Feeling his cheeks burn with embarrassment, he tensed his muscles and, with a loud gasp, threw the screaming Bianka off him. Before she could figure out her new position, Dottore grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head, reversing the previous situation. Bianka tried to kick him in the groin, as she had done a few weeks ago, but this time he was prepared – waiting for the right moment, he sat on her belly, preventing any further manoeuvres.

Seeing the researcher’s enraged expression, he chuckled low and brought his face close to hers. “You’re getting better, but you still have a long way to go. As I said, I’ve made my decision and I won’t let you slip out of this task. As soon as Mudry returns from—”

He was interrupted by the clang of metal. Mudry was holding the frame of a hospital bed and pushing it, curiously, towards the corridor, not the operating room. Realising he had been spotted, Mudry cowered as if caught red-handed. However, he quickly regained his composure, let go of the frame, straightened up and cleared his throat. “Master, I know that Bianka is a beautiful, alluring woman, but I remind you to remain serious and focused. A private room and bed are definitely more suitable for… these activities than a cold floor.”

Dottore stared at him blankly. What activities? Sure, not every boss knocks his employees to the ground and forces them to cooperate, but let’s be honest, he’s done much worse things. So why was Mudry so abashed?

Then, he glanced at Bianka, who was looking at him with wide eyes. He could almost feel the warmth radiating from her face. He looked at his hands pinned above her head, at her tousled hair and the strip of exposed belly that her pulled-up blouse couldn’t cover. Their faces were very close. Their thin trousers were the only barrier preventing them from feeling each other’s skin. If he moved down a little…

Dottore shot up as if struck by lightning. By the Seven Archons, what was he doing?! It wasn’t supposed to be like this; he was just teasing her! Looking at Bianka, who was getting up in a daze, pleasant warmth bloomed down, down in his body that he hadn’t felt in ages. Time, however, hadn’t made him forget what it meant. If he didn’t do something immediately, the ground would swallow him up.

“Mudry, whatever assumptions are smouldering in your old head, stifle them immediately,” he snapped, trying to even his breath. „Have you prepared the patient? Perfect, we can get to work!”

Bianka, who was still recovering, was directed by the Doctor towards the ominous machine.

„Shave his head, Mudry. I’ll explain to Bianka how the robot works.”

The segment nodded. Only then did clarity of mind return to Bianka’s tired brain. She looked at the machine, its black screen and two levers. Once again, she braced her feet against the ground. Dottore bumped into her but managed to keep his balance.

“Don’t make this difficult, Bianka,” he puffed, trying to force her to take another step. “We’ve been through this before.”

“No, I can’t do this operation,” she grunted, struggling with Dottore.

“I won’t leave you alone, I’ll help you.”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t or don’t want to?”

“I can’t!” she yelled. Somewhere off to the side, she could hear the sound of a razor blade sliding across skin. ‘Thanks, Mudry,’ she thought. ‘You don’t have to worry so much about me. I’m just fighting for the last scraps of my sanity here.’

Dottore finally managed to push her against the wall and turn her to face him. To Bianka’s torment, he guarded all potential escape routes.

“Why can’t you?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. “Is something stopping you?”

Numerous thoughts started rushing through Bianka’s mind. What argument could she come up with? What could convince Dottore to leave her alone? Searching for a solution was such an effort that sweat appeared on her forehead.

“It’s because…” she stammered. “I have a rule…”

Dottore raised his eyebrows. Whatever she said, he probably wouldn’t believe her. What reason could there be for her not being able to perform the operation, especially with assistance? The Doctor had already made it clear that lack of experience was not a sufficient argument for him. She had skilled hands, basic knowledge and a mind that was tired, but still functioning enough for her to concentrate. What else could she use…?

“I have a rule that I don’t operate without music!”

It was a hopeless reason; she was aware of that. There was no way Dottore would buy it. However, she deserved credit for coming up with something at all, considering her current state of exhaustion.

“Without music?” he repeated, his voice thoughtful.

Her amazement knew no bounds. Was it possible that Dottore was considering her argument after all?

“Yes, music, exactly!” She didn’t like how desperate her voice sounded. “Many surgeons operate with music. It makes me calmer and my movements more confident and stable. Without music, my patient won’t survive even three minutes!”

Dottore was silent, staring at her, his mouth slightly open. Bianka’s heart skipped a beat. Did she really have a chance to avoid the unwanted task?! Maybe she could get some sleep or eat a decent meal. Who knows, if Dottore was busy operating on the prisoner, maybe she could slip away unnoticed and end her punishment earl—

The Doctor roared with laughter, holding his belly. In an instant, all hope of a quick and painless way out of the situation vanished. She could only stand still, stare at the still cackling Dottore and wait for him to calm down.

He didn’t need to calm down as far as she was concerned. Maybe thanks to that, the patient would die before they could do anything.

Unfortunately, Dottore had other plans for them. Wiping away tears of amusement, he shook his head. “Poor Bianka, if music is what you need, there’s no problem with providing it for you, even now.”

He unfocused his gaze, his eyes clouded over. After a moment, Richard’s head appeared in the doorway.

“Did you call me, Master?” he asked with unnatural reluctance. Torturing must’ve given him as much pleasure as the surgery with the Doctor’s assistance for Bianka. “You said it was urgent.”

“Dear Richard,” Dottore cooed, turning Bianka towards him and placing his hands on her shoulders, „our surgeon needs to caress her ears in order to operate well. We will grant her request. Please bring that old gramophone from the storeroom, the one we got from Pantalone two years ago.”

A gramophone? From Lord Pantalone? It couldn’t be true that Regrator had given Dottore a gramophone. ‘Please, let it be a bluff!’ she thought.

Regrettably, it seemed that Richard understood what Dottore was talking about. He disappeared into the corridor, returning a few minutes later with a dusty and slightly rusty gramophone. Having placed it in the corner of the room, he pulled several rectangular record sleeves from his pocket.

“I managed to find a few tracks; you have to choose what you like, Bianka.” He cleared his throat and looked at the records. “We have a recording of a church choir from Mondstadt, an opera from Liyue, Sumerian instrumental music, a guitar piece by Ifa from Natlan, and the calls of the Snezhnayan whales.” He looked at her. “Does anything from this repertoire appeal to you?”

Bianka was paralysed. Despite the evidence right in front of her, her brain was unable to process the fact that she would have music provided for her. There was no way she could even think about choosing a specific record.

Dottore noticed the problem she was facing. He gave her a reassuring squeeze on the arm. “Sumerian music will be fine. We don’t want to organise a concert here, just some gentle sounds to calm the mind. And to make Bianka’s hands steadier.”

Dottore gently pushed Bianka towards the robot while Richard set up the gramophone. Their argument gave Mudry time to prepare the patient. Bianka’s gaze wandered in his direction. He was so young, he couldn’t have been more than thirty. The wounds on his face had been dressed and his face shaved. His clothes were gone, replaced by thin white fabric and a blanket to prevent hypothermia. When the anaesthetic filled his blood and his lungs breathed ether from the intubation tube, he was so calm. Who would have thought that not so long ago he had faced the Doctor.

‘Where did you come from, poor thing?’ she wondered. ‘So young, and yet so much anger inside you. Who feeds your hatred and will to fight? Despite the opposing sides we stand on, are we to simply deprive you of everything that makes you who you are?’

Dottore stopped her just in front of the machine and gave her a surprisingly tender smile. “So? Are you—?”

A sudden, horribly loud screech made them both jump. Even the patient stirred in his artificial sleep. The look Dottore gave Richard was truly murderous.

„I-I’m sorry, t-t-those were whale cries,” Richard stammered. “Fripon must have mixed up the discs; I’ll try to find the right one as soon as possible.”

The Doctor rubbed the bridge of his nose and, with a heavy sigh, focused his attention back on Bianka. „Sit down comfortably and I’ll explain what we’re going to do.”

Bianka gave him one last, tormented look. Dottore looked at her with complete disinterest. He raised one eyebrow, as if to ask, “Do you really want to keep this up?” No, she knew it didn’t make much sense. With her heart beating fast, she sank onto the stool.

“Excellent!” Dottore grinned, helping her move closer to the device. When he turned on the screen, they saw the top of the patient’s head, as if they were spiders observing their surroundings from the ceiling. Somewhere behind them, the first notes of calm music began to play. “Do you still remember what the different lobes of the brain are responsible for?”

Bianka frowned. „The occipital lobes analyse visual stimuli, while the temporal ones analyse hearing and speech. The parietal lobes are responsible for spatial orientation, as well as deep sensation, temperature, pain and pressure. And finally, the frontal lobes, which are the centre of planning, thinking, impulse control and personality.”

“Brilliant! I’m glad to see that my lessons have not been in vain. Today we will focus on the prefrontal cortex, responsible for consciousness and thinking.” Dottore looked at the prisoner. “Mudry, present the implants.”

The old segment approached them, picking up two round objects from the metal table. They were about a centimetre in diameter and very flat, almost like a sheet of paper.

“These implants allow for some degree of manipulation of the impulses sent by neurons,” Mudry explained. „The aim of the operation is to implant them in the patient’s prefrontal cortex. If the procedure is successful, we will be able to modify his way of thinking so that he serves us instead of our enemies. In addition, the patient will become more apathetic and less interested in the world around him. In short, we will get a soldier who comes when called and unquestioningly carries out all orders.”

“So, a living robot…” Bianka summarised. Ruthless, but effective.

“That’s an accurate description,” Dottore agreed. “Now that you know where we stand, let’s not prolong this. The longer the patient remains under anaesthesia, the greater the strain on his body. Not that his health matters. As I said before, even if he dies, it won’t be a great loss.”

Dottore gently pressed Bianka’s jaw, turning her head back to the screen. „The controls are very simple and intuitive. The levers are your hands; move them and the robot’s arms will also change position. Can you feel the buttons under the knobs? Squeeze and the grippers will close, release and they will loosen. If you want to change the plane of the grippers, turn the knobs. The button on the panel is for changing instruments. Mudry and I will be with you the whole time to guide you and take over the robot if necessary. Now try moving the arms and grab the gauze on the table.”

Bianka’s hands rested on the levers. As soon as she moved them, the robot’s arms came to life. As Dottore had said, the controls weren’t difficult. She quickly understood what she had to do and carried out the command without any problems, all the time accompanied by the sounds of the sitar strings and pakhavaj.

“I see that you won’t have major difficulties in manipulating the instruments,” Dottore said, pleased with her rapid progress. “There is one last thing we need to do before we begin the procedure: we need to change our clothes.”

Once they had changed their everyday clothes into gowns, masks, caps and gloves, they returned to the room. Bianka sat down at the screen again while Mudry drew a few lines on the patient’s forehead.

Dottore leaned over his apprentice’s head. “Let’s begin. Make the first incision along the lines marked by Mudry.”

Bianka took a breath and moved the levers. First the scalpel, then the forceps and the bone saw. Caution. Maximum concentration. The warmth of Dottore’s breath warming her ear; his quiet words guiding her along the right path. The delicate notes of Sumerian instruments, reminiscent of humid rainforests and golden deserts. Everything else ceased to exist. Only work, warm breath and melancholic music.

The surgery wasn’t easy. The blood feeding the patient’s cells spilled from the vessels, staining the instruments scarlet. Despite Mudry’s efforts to drain it, the blood kept coming. The brain tissue was so delicate; one wrong move and the consequences would be irreversible. The small size of the implants made it difficult to grasp them and place them in the right place.

A bead of sweat appeared on Bianka’s forehead, her breathing quickened. Fatigue and stress slowly tightened an overwhelming noose around her.

Dottore wasn’t going to let it tighten completely. He sat down right behind Bianka so she could lean against his chest. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, feeling his hard muscles. She glanced behind her, as if to make sure her senses weren’t playing tricks on her.

Suddenly, a weight fell on her hands. The touch was firm, calm, full of the confidence that can only be gained through long hours of work and slowly acquired experience. For the second time that day, warmth spread through her body. Dottore closed her hands in his and guided her movements. She didn’t even notice when the piece ended and the music fell silent.

Before she knew it, it was over. The patient was still breathing calmly, approval emanated from Mudry… and Bianka was barely conscious from exhaustion. She turned her head with effort, curious about the Doctor’s reaction. She hoped he would be proud of her. This task exceeded her job description and competence by—

Dottore was staring at her with large, sparkling eyes. The look was astonishing – sincere, almost innocent, as if all emotions had left the gates of his psyche, ready to see the light of day. Full of trust. Why now? Because she had done so well? Because she hadn’t criticised him for his crazy idea? Or maybe because she trusted him to guide her through the map of the human brain when she couldn’t manage it herself?

There could have been so many reasons… But they weren’t important. The most important was the present moment, that look and the warmth in Bianka’s heart.

Driven by a sudden impulse, almost a need, she leaned over and murmured, “I trust you.”

An honest truth. That one look confirmed her belief that she would entrust her life to the Doctor without hesitation. The stories painted Dottore as a dangerous madman; an unrivalled genius whose soul was as black and rotten as a body ravaged by gangrene. They were not lies, but they were far from the truth either. What the authors of these stories would say if they saw that look? If they had witnessed this sensitive man who wanted to feel her touch when he was ill? If they had seen him comforting her when the torment and suffering of the prisoners’ fate was breaking her heart? If they had seen how he protected her from the sabrelion, putting his own health and life at risk?

It was Bianka who knew the whole truth. She saw different sides of the same man, and only she could judge him.

And her judgement was saying, “I trust you.”

The Doctor’s emotions were joined by surprise. He flinched, unsure how to react. However, his initial astonishment quickly passed. Dottore’s mouth was still covered by a surgical mask, but she could see from the movement of his cheeks that he was smiling. Squinting his eyes, he let out a short laugh.

“Good to know, Bianka,” he replied, placing his hand on her head.

Delicate butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She smiled wider, never breaking eye contact with Dottore. Had his eyes always been such a beautiful shade of scarlet?

It was unclear how long they would have continued like this if their attention hadn’t been diverted by a subtle grunt. Once again, they had managed to embarrass Mudry, judging by his darting gaze and tense shoulders.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but we should take care of the patient,” he suggested. “It’s not right for him to be in the operating theatre now that the procedure is over. We should put him in the recovery room and keep him under observation.”

Awkwardness hit Bianka like a speeding train. Some surgeon she was if all she could think about was staring at Dottore while the man she had operated on was still unconscious on the chair. Dottore himself didn’t look any better. Mudry’s words closed the door on delicate emotions, leaving only embarrassment. The pang of regret in Bianka’s chest was unexpected, but not surprising.

“You’re right, Mudry, our work isn’t done,” Dottore admitted. “You can bring the bed here, and we’ll help you transport the prisoner.”

On the way to the work bedroom, quiet groans and the rustling of sheets informed them that the patient was about to wake up. The man opened his eyes, red with fatigue, and tried to look around.

Dottore brought his head back to the pillow. “Sleep. There’s no point in getting up so soon. We don’t need your help yet.”

The patient looked at him with a vacant stare, then closed his eyes. Bianka glanced at Dottore with a silent question. He winked at her mischievously.

“What will the next steps be?” she asked when the prisoner was already resting in the bedroom with Mudry as his guardian.

“We will monitor him for the next few days. If there are no worrying symptoms after that time, we will hand him over to Pantalone.”

Bianka hummed, lost in thought. “It’s a great gift, a servant who’d carry out every command on demand. Won’t Regrator become your debtor? I don’t think he’ll like that prospect.”

“Please, I’ve done this many times before; it’s really no big deal.” A playful gleam appeared in his eyes. “If you’d like to have your own servant, I can arrange it for you.”

Bianka nudged him in the ribs. This didn’t stop Dottore from bursting into a loud cackle. She really wanted to be angry with him, but his laughter was contagious. After a moment, they were both giggling in the empty corridor.

Dottore was the first to catch his breath. “Joking aside, I am pleased with your attitude and commitment during your punishment. I think you deserve a long rest and a decent meal.”

Bianka’s face lit up with a glow that had been missing for the past week. “Does that mean…?”

“Your punishment is over,” he confirmed. “You can go back to your chambers and rest as long as you need.”

Her big smile almost evoked another salve of his laughter.

“I intend to take advantage of that opportunity immediately.” She tilted her head. “Just out of curiosity, what task did you have for me before the patient appeared on the scene?”

Dottore shrugged nonchalantly. „Oh, it was nothing. I just wanted to shorten your punishment and leave you alone. But when such an interesting specimen fell into our lap, I couldn’t help but involve you. It would reflect badly on me as a competent mentor.”

All of Bianka’s joy was replaced by growing disbelief and anger. So she could have been getting some much-needed sleep for several hours now, but instead she had to endure this inhumane procedure? If her gaze had physical weight, Dottore would have been crushed flat. He, however, just bared his sharp teeth.

“Don’t worry, I promise I won’t stand between you and your soft bed and 500-gram meal anymore. Come on, I’ll walk you to your room so you don’t trip on your way out of exhaustion.”

Bianka reluctantly lumbered alongside the self-satisfied Doctor. She hummed. Perhaps those few hours of extra work weren’t such a big loss. After all, if it weren’t for them, her mind wouldn’t now be filled with visions of those strong hands and gentle gaze – the mirror of her master’s soul.